


Words

by Stigitsune_shipper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF Neville Longbottom, But it's okay, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Words, Good Tom Riddle, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Harry had a crush on Tom, I promise, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Multi, Neville doesn't have a Mark, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Poor Harry, Post-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Professor Tom Riddle, Sane Tom Riddle, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Tags May Change, Unconventional Soulmates, Wizengamot, i keep adding tags hahaha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2020-08-14 11:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20191348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stigitsune_shipper/pseuds/Stigitsune_shipper
Summary: The first words your Soulmate will ever tell you, appear on your skin on the night of your 15th birthday.Harry Potter is anticipating it like everyone else. And it goes alright.Until he wakes up the next day and finds a clear 'Avada Kedavra' right over his scar.His Soulmate is Lord Bloody Voldemort.Great. Just great.What is his life, anyway...Or; The Tomarry Soulmate AU we all needed ;)***A translation to Spanish done by the amazing Bubble can be foundhere!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Harry Potter Fanfic on AO3!  
It's a Tomarry... you can't expect anything else from me, haha.  
Hope you'll enjoy!  
Sti

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a tiny disclaimer before we start:  
English is not my first language. I'm trying my best I can, but... you know... there might be some mistakes.  
So I'm sorry for any of that ahead <3  
And, of course, I don't own the hp world or its characters :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Staring at the ceiling proved to be boring. Mainly because, like everything else in this house, it was bland, uninteresting and ‘normal’. Maybe also because he had stared at it so many times, that he knew every single crack by now.

Harry James Potter was dying from boredom. And also trepidation. He was forcing himself to sleep, to close his eyes and make his mind shut off, but he was too wired up.

Today was the 30th of July. And in just a few hours, he was going to turn 15. Which was… well… which was a lot.

Especially because he was going to get his Soulmate Mark tomorrow.

Dear Circe.

His own Soulmate Mark. Small lettering appearing on his skin, telling him who his Soulmate was.

Everybody looked forward to their 15th birthdays. Finding out your Soulmate’s 1st words to you, was exciting. Everyone kept saying how becoming 15 was a huge thing and how you stepped out of childhood forever on that day. How you were going to find your Soulmate, your significant other, your everything.

But Harry feared that once he woke up the next day, he wouldn’t find anything. He knew the probability of that happening was extremely small. Only 0,9% of the planet didn’t get a Soulmate. But even _that_ was just about _77 millions of people._

He had never met someone without a Mark, but he knew how society viewed them. Everyone knew that if you didn’t get any Mark, you were worthless. The God has not bestowed a Soulmate on you – you were not worthy of one – so how could you be good at anything?

Once again with the ‘Everyone’s. Merlin, how much he hated those opinions. He hated most of what society thought ‘normal’ and ‘completely acceptable’. Probably because of the Dursleys.

But even he didn’t want to end up Markless. Even though he himself had nothing against them, he felt sad for them. And truly, he didn’t want to _not_ have a Soulmate.

He could see it. Everywhere he looked, from everything he’d heard… having a Soulmate was beautiful. Harry had always dreamed of someone taking him away, showing him a nicer place, someone who would understand him and truly love him.

He didn’t even care who, he just… he just really wanted that.

But his luck has been the worst, so…

Harry rolled to his side and closed his eyes.

He remembered the first time he had seen a Soulmate Mark. He was just about 3, or… maybe 4? He wasn’t sure. Aunt Petunia had been scorning him for dropping one of the cups, even though it hadn’t broken. She had waved her hand around, and Harry noticed a string of an ugly scrawling on her upper arm.

He’d asked her about it and she’d got a weird expression on her face. It had been the first time he’d seen her blush and the loving look she gave it, freaked him out. “It’s my Soulmate Mark. These are the first words your Uncle has ever said to me. He has mine as well, of course.”

Harry had peered at it. In the nearly unreadable writing that he later learned to recognized as Uncle Vernon’s stood: _Watch where you’re going._

Aunt Petunia had continued. “You get your Mark on your 15th birthday. It shows you the greatest person for you…” then she’d sneered, “of course, freaks like you don’t get Soulmates. Now go and clean this up!”

And that was the end of it. Harry had in later years heard the story of how his relatives had met – they like to say it to everyone who’d listen (with the exception of him, of course) and he overheard them telling it to Dudley.

It was very mundane, normal and boring – just like that bloody ceiling. They both had been going their ways on a certain street when they managed to bump into each other. Vernon had been rude - as always – while Petunia had hastily apologized.

_Pardon me, sir._ Stood on Vernon’s arm. After that, they supposedly let everything go and started to talk, enthralled in themselves.

Dudley had said it was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard. Harry thought it was the most terrible way of meeting, but whatever. He didn’t really expect more from them, to be honest.

Dudley had gotten his own Mark a month back. It was heavily anticipated (Harry secretly wished it would be something really dumb) and it turned out to _be_ really dumb. It was ‘Hello’. _Hello._

And his relatives particularly _swooned_ over it. Petunia sobbed at how ‘beautiful' and ‘normal’ and ‘amazing’ it was. Dudley had proudly stated he would tell everyone ‘Hello’ in return so that his Soulmate will have the same Mark.

It seemed like neither of them realized ‘Hello’ was the most common word to say when you met someone… so it could be anyone. Like, completely anyone.

But of course, it was Dudley and whatever was _not_ awesome when it came to him?

Merlin.

But yeah, ever since that, Harry’s birthdays were slowly crawling closer and closer and the Dursleys made very sure to tell him, that freaks didn’t get Marks.

Which was bullshit, really. The whole Wizarding world proudly wore their Marks, but… the Dursleys just liked to torment him. Dudley laughed and poked at him, saying he’ll never get one. Or, that he will but, his Soulmate will be some old granny. Or, heaven forbid, his Soulmate will be a boy!

Because even though gay couples were S_oulmates_, society still liked to pretend it was highly unnatural and disgusting.

It belonged to the long list of what Harry hated about it.

But not to be _too_ pessimistic, right?

He closed his eyes, willing himself, to just. Stop. Thinking.

Maybe it would be a girl. Maybe it would be Cho… only Cho had gotten her Mark last year, and it turned out to be Cedric. And Cedric died…

He ran his hand through his hair and sat up in frustration. Hedwig hooted from her place. He sighed, gently shushing her, before flopping back down.

Okay, so what. Maybe he won’t get a Soulmate Mark. It didn’t make him worthless. Only… if he really _was_ that unlovable, then… then…

_Just sleep. Worst case it’ll be Malfoy._

Harry laughed at himself. And then, finally, _finally_ fell asleep.

***

It was Hedwig who woke him up.

She was sitting on her perch, just as in the night, but there were a bunch of mouse pellets hanging around. Ew.

Harry yawned, turning around to get back to sleep when he saw a glimpse of his bare wrist and sprung up.

He was 15! He got a Soulmate Mark!

He put his glasses on and frantically started to look himself over. His hands, wrists, fingers, forearms, _backs_ of forearms, elbows, upper arms. Nothing.

Right, the place of your Mark was supposed to be significant, somehow. For a lot of people, it was the place their Soulmate first touched them.

No wonder a lot of Marks were on hands, people shook them all the time.

But that was not the case for Harry. Alright. Legs.

He checked the thighs, back of them, calves, knees, ankles, even between his toes and his panic was steadily growing bigger and bigger.

Okay, wait, maybe his chest. He quickly shed the t-shirt and silently prayed to whoever was up there. _Please be there, please be there._

But it wasn’t. His chest was empty. Okay. Okay, maybe… right! It could be on his neck or face, where he couldn’t see it.

So he rushed to the bathroom and started to look himself over. Inches and inches of bare skin stared back and nothing…

And then he came to his face. He lifted his bangs and… oh.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no.

Fuck, why him?

Harry _had_ indeed found his Mark.

But now he just wished he hadn’t.

It had to be his scar. Of course, it had to be his scar.

Right over it, in line with his hairline, were two words written in neat, beautiful cursive. Very familiar handwriting to Harry, after all, he had spent a few days writing back and forth with the diary.

_Avada Kedavra. _

** _Avada Kedavra._ **

For Merlin’s sake, could he go and die? Maybe if he Avada Kedavrad himself, it would work…

Jesus Fucking Christ.

People have spent their entire _lives_ trying to find their Soulmates. There were even dating services for it!

But no, Harry had the fortune of knowing _exactly_ who his darling Soulmate was.

Because it was none other than Lord Voldemort. AKA Tom Marvolo Riddle. AKA, the guy that killed his parents and tried to murder him on every occasion he got!

Harry was truly and utterly _fucked._

His legs gave up, and he crumpled down to his knees, still clutching the sink. This was bad. This was… really, really bad.

If anyone found out… He didn’t even want to think about that.

He should be happy about even _having_ a Soulmate. It meant there was someone for him. Someone who would love him.

But that same person had tried to kill him.

Voldemort had been doing his best to take his life at every opportunity he got. His Soulmate – his _own_ Soulmate – was trying to murder him. He had killed his parents. And countless others.

And that was a whole other thing. Lord Voldemort was insane. He was a megalomaniac. A _psychopath._ Crazy, cruel, not far from becoming a monster.

Scratch that – he already _was_ a monster. That _thing_ that came out of the cauldron could not be described as anything else. He killed Cedric. He used the Cruciatus on Harry.

And this person – this emotionless creature – was supposed to be his Soulmate.

Harry could only laugh. Laugh at the _irony_ of it. The Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord, sworn enemies, people on completely other sides of the war… were Soulmates.

Was he _that_ unlovable? Was he _that_ unworthy of anything else? Was he really such a terrible, useless person that he _deserved_ a soulless monster for a lover?

Soulmates were supposed to be… the same. Heavily similar. Yin and Yang. Teacups and plates. Complimenting each other, clicking together like puzzle pieces.

He and Voldemort were the exact opposites. Harry was a Gryffindor, a teenager and absolutely _not_ in favour of killing and murdering. Voldemort was a Slytherin, he was very much insane and also just about 50 years older than him.

And Harry had been worrying about it being Malfoy! Circe…

What was he going to do?

He gritted his teeth and stood up. His Mark was staring back at him from the mirror and he couldn’t help but touch it. It pleasantly tingled, happily humming beneath his fingertips.

It wasn’t too visible, thankfully. If one wasn’t looking too closely at his scar, they wouldn’t even notice. And he was already used to wear his hair over it so… good.

At least one thing wasn’t screwed up.

But somehow, even though it horrified him to think _who_ was his Soulmate, he somehow wanted to… keep touching it. Marvelling at it and at how _pretty _and _elegant_ that handwriting was, he never noticed it before but… Tom really _did_ have nice handwriting…

His thoughts wandered off to Tom Riddle. To the 16-year-old, beautiful, charming, witty Tom Riddle. The one that he had spent days writing to.

Harry had never allowed himself to admit it. Every time the theme came up, he quickly reminded himself who Tom was, and thought about something else. But… well…

He would be a fool if he couldn’t admit that he had had a crush on the older boy. Before the whole ‘I’m actually Voldemort and want to kill you’ thing happened, he genuinely _liked_ Tom. He admired him.

He had liked the intelligent teenager and their long debates.

Of course, at first, Harry didn’t think he’d spent much time writing to the diary. After the first day, he put it in his truck and told himself he’d let it be. Until… well until he pulled it out the next day, curiosity making him write to Tom, to try to understand what had happened with Hagrid.

And they wrote. For days. Days, upon days, upon weeks. Until the diary went missing. It did sadden Harry, but then other things happened, so he let it be.

Maybe that’s why the betrayal stung even more. Because he _liked_ Not-Voldemort Tom. He liked the boy before. They spent a long time debating about certain things, or spells or social stuff. And Tom was always understanding, helpful and a complete smart ass, but Harry liked it.

The thought of this Tom, this guy that never became Voldemort, becoming his Soulmate made his chest fill with warmth.

He knew that was unreal because _that_ Tom was just an act, but… but still… Harry wouldn’t have been against it. There, he said it. He wouldn’t mind dating Tom Riddle. Jesus…

But the reality was different. Tom Riddle had gone insane. He became a Dark Lord and started to slaughter innocents. He also looked like a snake and didn’t have a nose.

(Not like Harry particularly cared about how people looked like, but Voldemort was literally giving him nightmares.)

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a short laugh. What was he even thinking about?

Dear Morgana, he should just stop. He had been a foolish 12-year-old back then, but then again, all 12-year-olds were foolish. And Tom Riddle was too charming for Harry to resist and not get a massive crush on.

He should probably stop thinking about that. Yeah. Alright.

He went back to his room and pulled his shirt on.

He looked around the room and at Hedwig and felt a pang of pain at not seeing any letters. Anywhere.

Same as this whole summer.

He didn’t like thinking about it and Morgana forbid if Dudley were to find out.

But it still stung.

His friends hadn’t written to him all summer. Nothing from Ron, Hermione or even Sirius. Nothing. Not even a simple hello. He had written them all summer. Sending letters after letters and Hedwig always came back, letter-less, but with no reply.

Harry had thought that they would at least send something for his birthday. Maybe a birthday card. That would truly be enough for him.

But all summer… just radio silence.

Like in the summer after the first year, but this time, it was worse. Worse, because not only was he currently dealing with awful nightmares but due to not receiving any news from them, he had no contact with the wizarding world. Which meant he had no idea what was going on there, which also meant he had no knowledge about Voldemort’s actions.

With the Dark Lord getting resurrected, he could be doing Merlin knows what and Harry had no way of knowing. He had sent letters full of questions, desperate cries for information, that he was sorely not getting.

Also, with Hedwig coming back empty-handed – or clawed, in her case – it meant that his letters _were_ getting received. His friends just weren’t replying…

Not even Sirius. Not even his Godfather had written _anything_ to him.

Wasn’t _that_ reassuring, huh?

He guessed he should have expected it, after the month of nothing, but still… yeah.

Not even Neville had replied to him yet – he had sent the boy a birthday card, the day before. But… well, Neville lived a long distance away, so maybe the reply just didn’t come yet.

Staring at the bed just made him depressed. So he pulled on some outside clothes – all baggy, because, well, he didn’t have anything else – and walked out.

Fortune had it that he managed to avoid everyone else in the house. Thank Circe. He truly didn’t believe he could deal with Dudley’s jabs right now. Or Petunia’s ordering. Or Vernon’s stupid jokes he _had_ to laugh at.

He _despised_ the house. He abhorred it with every sense of his being.

So he walked out and started to wander around Little Whinging.

He did it often this summer – Harry took every chance he could, to get out of Number 4. His mind was swirling with thoughts.

It had been a big pole in the Wizarding world, passed through whispered giggles and between friends, but never in public serious media.

Did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named have a Soulmate?

Many people liked to believe the answer to be negative. Harry himself hoped that would be the case because if such a twisted bastard like _him_ got a Soulmate, while so many nice people stayed alone, the world would really be a fucked up place.

But apparently… yeah. Old Voldy got a Soulmate.

It might be better if he never got to know.

He thought about what _Voldemort’s _Mark was. Harry couldn’t clearly remember what he had told him when they met.

Now that he was thinking about it… yeah, Voldemort was mocking his parents for protecting him and, yeah, Harry probably told him he was a liar or that it wasn’t true or something like that.

Ha, wouldn’t it be funny to have a big **SHUT UP **in a very visible place? Voldy would certainly deserve it.

Well… probably better than having _the killing curse_ on your face.

Harry walked up to a playground and sat down on one of the swings. It was still pretty early in the morning and quite chilly, which meant there weren’t many kids around. It was just him and an old lady with her 5-year-old grandson.

He sighed. How did he even get into this mess?

Maybe it wasn’t Voldemort. Maybe someone else will come up to him and jokingly say that. But that would be really shitty. And who would _do_ something like that? There was only one person who had ever tried to kill him and that was Lord Voldemort.

Harry sighed again.

He wondered what he should tell people. They were going to ask – everyone always asked. He couldn’t just straight up tell them his Soulmate was the Dark Lord. The _Daily Prophet_ would have a field day.

Maybe he should tell Ron and Hermione that he didn’t have a Soulmate… but wait. Those two didn’t talk to him. Right.

But still, the idea had its merits. Not having a Soulmate was terrible and he knew he’d get a backlash for it, but it was better than telling the truth.

Hm, or maybe he could write something on his arm – something really common like _Your eyes are so pretty, _or _Hi, how are you?_ Something that would make the world believe he was looking for his significant other, rather than question why he was alone.

Deep in his thoughts, the Boy Who Lived didn’t notice someone closing in. It was only after a moment, that he heard a creaking noise.

Harry quickly stood up, reaching for his wands. Then he cursed himself. He had forgotten it in his room!

He scanned the area, looking for danger. Something cold suddenly touched his neck. Harry flinched back, but black-gloved hands grabbed him and the tip of the wand pressed further.

The last thing Harry heard was a raspy “Stupefy” before the world turned pitch black.

***

Harry woke up in a bed. It was a nice bed, soft and comfy and he snuggled further into the inviting warmness. His bed at the Dursleys was way worse than this, yeah, this bed was nice – wait.

Wait.

He sprung up, looking around. This was indeed not his bed at Number 4, neither the one at Hogwarts.

Harry found himself in a cell. A dark, cold, rectangular room with walls made from stone. There was the bed he was currently sitting on, a chair and a tiny toilet. The wall behind him had a small window and the wall opposite it was made completely out of bars.

He quickly stood up, his heart beating in his chest. This was a prison. This was a holding cell!

Someone kidnapped him. Yes, that’s it, someone must have kidnapped him. He remembered the raspy voice and black clothes the attacker wore.

Death Eaters.

Oh no…

If it was them – because who else –, then it meant he had been taken by Voldemort.

What if… What if the other man _knew? _What if he knew Harry was his Soulmate? He had his own Mark after all – maybe he realized back when they first met and now he was just waiting for Harry’s 15th birthday.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

This was bad. This was really, really bad.

If the madman knew… Merlin knew what he would do to Harry. What if he decided to take Harry prisoner and keep him here for the rest of his life? In this dingy little prison with no light and only one chair?

He quickly ran to the bars, trying to open them. Nothing. The door was locked.

The Chosen One started to pace. He had to get out. Preferably before anyone came by to check on him.

Somebody would notice he was missing, right? The Dursleys would be relieved and not care, but… maybe someone _will_ eventually write to him and they’ll realize he’s not there and they’ll come for him. They will. Absolutely. Because if not, then –

“Oh, you’re up!”

Harry quickly spun around. Someone was standing right outside his cell.

The person was clothed in black robes, a grey shirt and a pair of black pants. They held a lit lantern in their right hand. By the sound of it, it was a man.

Harry squinted at the face and found himself staring at a familiar smirk he’d last seen only a month ago.

“Barty Crouch Jr?” He breathed out in disbelief.

“Yep,” the Death Eater popped out the ‘p’, “that’d be me. Good thing you’re up, Potter.”

Harry took a step back. “You’re supposed to be dead. They caught you – “

“I escaped Azkaban; you think a bunch of professors would stop me?” Barty seemed very proud of himself.

Harry frowned. “Why am I here? What do you want with me?”

To his surprise, Barty shrugged. “Who knows. But come with me,” he unlocked the door, “the Dark Lord is waiting.”

Harry stared at the open door. “Voldemort? I-I’m not coming.”

“Jesus… Kid, if he wanted you dead, you’d already _be_ dead.” He said.

The Boy Who Lived looked back at the tiny cell. He didn’t like the idea of walking out with a Death Eater – especially if this one was supposed to lead him to Voldemort – but he knew that this could be his chance at escaping.

So he adjusted his glasses and carefully walked out of the cell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys. Guys!!!  
Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments and Kudos! I can't believe how many people had already liked this after the FIRST chapter, like, holy shit.  
So... yeah. Thank you! *happily jumps up and down.*  
This chapter's a bit longer. I'm not sure how long they will be, I usually write around 3000-4000 words, so we'll see :)  
Hope you'll enjoy! And I'm sorry for any mistakes.  
Sti

Barty led him through series of stony hallways. Harry followed in silence, anxiety making his heart beat as if he ran a marathon.

They walked out of a set of doors, finally leaving the cellar.

_This is it,_ Harry thought, _Voldemort’s either going to kill me or enslave me. _

He wasn’t exactly sure which would be better.

They walked into a sitting room and up another staircase. It didn’t take long for Harry to realize something – he knew this place. He had been here; he had seen the Manor from afar – this was the house in Little Hangleton where Voldemort killed that old gardener.

And apparently, the Dark Lord also took his time to renovate it. It looked quite a lot homier.

Hm.

He trailed behind Crouch, looking around, to see if there was anyone else. But they met nobody on their way. Harry was glad, because if he were to meet Pettigrew, he’d probably strangle him.

A few steps later, and they stood before a set of heavy wooden door. Barty sent him a grin. And then he knocked on them.

A muffled voice answered to come in, and the Death Eater opened the door, before walking inside.

Harry clenched his fists and stepped in.

The first thing he noticed, were the eyes. Same deep, crimson shade of red, piercing through him the same way they did on the graveyard.

His eyes, however, were the only thing that stayed the same.

Right before Harry stood Lord Voldemort… And he looked human.

His skin was a healthy shade of pink. Black, perfectly styled hair curled on top of his head. He looked exactly like Tom Riddle in the diary, maybe just a few years older. Except the eyes. They stayed red.

Harry gulped. He was fucked. He was fucked, this was not good, this was very not good, how could that guy look so good???

Shit, it was easier to pretend Voldemort was terrible when he looked like a snake incarnate, but Morgana, he was _attractive._

How did that happen? Didn’t he look revolting just a month back?

Harry forced himself to not gape. He just stood there and stared at the Dark Lord, while he stared back.

Then one corner of those beautiful lips came up in a smirk. “Harry Potter.”

The boy’s shocks turned into anger. “Voldemort.”

“Do you like my new form?”

Harry almost growled. The Dark wizard just chuckled and continued. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on killing you. Today.”

“Then why the fuck am I here? You kidnapped me, why would you do that, if you didn’t want to murder me?”

He noticed Barty leaning against the wall behind him. He and Voldemort stood few metres apart, both staring each other down. If only Harry hadn’t left his wand at Privet Drive…

Voldemort answered. “There is something I’ve wanted for a _very_ long time. You’re here, to get it for me.”

This… was not what Harry expected. He blinked. “What? What do you want? And why would I even do that?”

One of the perfectly shaped eyebrows came up. “Because you don’t want to die, perhaps?”

“You just said you won’t kill me.”

Voldemort rolled his eyes. Actually rolled them! “You will do it, because the object is not only important to me, it’s to you as well. It speaks about both of us.”

Something that _spoke_ about them?

“What is it?”

“Do you know about prophecies, Potter?”

Harry gaped. “Prophecies? There was a prophecy about us?”

The other man cocked his head to one side. “The old coot hasn’t told you? Hm… interesting… But yes. There is a prophecy talking about me and you. It is the reason why I came after you.”

The Boy Who Lived stared. A prophecy. A bloody prophecy was the reason why Voldemort tried to murder him. Not like he didn’t think prophecies weren’t important, but almost every single thing Professor Trelawney had ever told him, turned out to be false. So he wasn’t exactly sure if he trusted the whole Divination thing.

Voldemort started to pace around, as he continued. “One day, in the afternoon of 4th of May, 1980, Sybille Trelawney told a prophecy to Albus Dumbledore in a job interview.”

“Trelawney? But she’s a fraud, she keeps predicting my death.”

Voldemort smirked. “Why, yes, but this was the one and only true prophecy she had ever spoken. Just so you know, the interview took place in a dingy pub and one of my Death Eaters overheard and brought it back to me. He wasn’t able to hear the whole thing, but the first few lines were clear. It spoke about a child, born at the end of July, that would have the power to vanquish me. That child turned out to be you.”

One of Harry’s eyes twitched. “You’re telling me,” he said slowly, “that you killed my family only because of some stupid prophecy?! You _ruined _my life, because something told you I might one day, maybe do something?! You tried to kill me and you didn’t even hear the whole thing?!!! Are you _insane?!!”_

He expected Voldemort to start throwing hexes, but the other man stayed calm. He looked at Harry with hard expression on his face.

“Yes. I did. I was… out of my mind, back then. I have lost my sanity to power, but I’ve restored it now. With getting my new body, I’ve realized my mind was not in the right state, so I took my sanity back. That’s why I want to hear the rest. Because while I want to put you under Cruciatus for your audacity… well, you’re right.”

The man turned away. Harry looked back at Barty, unsure how to proceed. Voldemort sounded angry but… _agreed_ with Harry? Okay… that was weird.

He crossed his arms. “So if you want it, then why don’t you just go get it?”

“Because, Potter, the prophecies are all stored in the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic. And _I_ can hardly go into a public place like that.”

Well, that was true… but thinking about it made Harry realize another thing.

“What if I get the prophecy, bring it here and it says we’re huge enemies. You’ll just kill me on spot?”

Barty took out a knife and started to clean his nails.

The Dark Lord observed Harry for a while. “I think we should agree on not doing anything to each other, until we hear it and agree on how we’ll continue. Is that fair enough?”

“How do I know you’re not just bluffing? You’ll hear one line and start throwing curses, I _know_ you.”

“For Morgana’s sake – alright!” he huffed out and stalked over to Harry. Then he held out his hand.

Harry just looked at it, confusion filling him up the brim.

“Um…?”

“Merlin, Potter, your hand. We can swear a Vow to each other, to stay civil until we make a deal. Is that enough for you?” He sneered.

Harry looked down at the offered hand, then at Voldemort and then back down. He had never made a Vow before.

“What will happen if you break it?”

“If either of us goes against the Vow, we’ll lose our magic.”

Okay. That sounded like a good deal.

Harry hesitantly reached out for the offered hand. He clearly remembered what happened the last time they’d touched and he hoped it will be better.

Voldemort made an annoyed growl and grabbed Harry’s forearm. The Gryffindor did the same. Then Voldemort took out his Yew wand and started to speak.

“I, Lord Voldemort, swear on my Magick, to stay civil to Harry James Potter until we both agree to end this Vow. So mote it be.”

As he spoke a thing silver line started to slither around their joined wrists. Voldemort’s red eyes flashed at him and Harry quickly stumbled out the same thing (with changed names of course). The silver ropes glided around his own wrist as well, before flashing and sinking into their skins.

Voldemort let him go and Harry hastily took a step back. His skin was tingling and not only from the Vow. He’d just held hands with Voldemort. With his sworn enemy! And not only that, he had held hands with his Soulmate!

And it felt good!

Argh…

“Well then? Go. Barty will take you to the Ministry.” The Slytherin commanded, turning back to the window.

“He’s supposed to be dead. They’ll lock him up if they see him.”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that. I have my ways.” Barty laughed and opened the door, “We’ll be back soon, My Lord.”

The Dark Lord only nodded. Harry gave him a look, before glancing at Barty, who nodded his head to the door. Alright then.

He gave the black haired man one last look, before walking out. It’s not like he wanted to do what Voldemort told him, but the older man had been right. The prophecy was important for Harry too.

Barty led him through the manor, heading for the main entrance. Harry trailed behind him, questioning his actions.

He just swore a Vow to Voldemort. One that if broken, would make him a Squib. It was a terrifying thought, truly. More so that Voldemort agreed on it. Lord Voldemort actually swore to not kill him. Until they _both_ called it off. It meant that if Harry never agreed to it, Voldemort wouldn’t be able to hurt him!

Harry on the other hand had no problem with what was said. He could stay civil to Voldemort; _he_ wasn’t the one trying to kill the other. He never had wanted to fight the man. So this was a relief.

But the reason why they made it, was a bit more worrying.

There was a prophecy. A _real_, truthful prophecy about him and Voldemort.

It made Voldemort go after him. It was the reason for this whole fight. And neither of them had heard it in its entirety. But… apparently, Professor Dumbledore had.

So he _knew_ why Voldemort came after him. Harry had asked him about it after the fiasco with Quirell, in his first year. And the Headmaster told him he was too young to understand. Was _this_ what the old man meant? That there was a prophecy?

Well, Harry would very much like to hear it. It spoke about him, of course he wanted to.

Circe, to think his destiny was laying somewhere in the Ministry…

What a joke.

They stopped right in front of the gate. Barty held out his hand to him. “We’re going to apparate.”

What was it with people wanting to hold his hand, today?

But he had heard of Apparation before, and he hardly had any other options, so he took the Death Eater’s hand.

And with a terrifying, nausea-inducing twist, they were gone.

***

They appeared in an empty, side alley-way.

There was no one else around, except for few pigeons pecking at the ground next to few trash containers.

Harry stumbled to the nearest wall and collapsed against it. That was completely _terrible._

Barty laughed. “Never side-along Apparated?”

“Um…” he took deep breaths, “I never even Apparated.”

The Death Eater laughed. Harry forced himself to calm down and after a while, his stomach settled. He pushed himself up.

This whole place was empty.However, right at the corner of the alley and main street, stood a red telephone booth. Harry didn’t have to look long to recognize they were in London.

Barty grinned at him. “Have you ever been in the Ministry?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

The grin only widened. “Well then you’re in for something. Wait a min,”

Harry watched as the man pulled out a wand – different than Moody’s, so he must have gotten a new one – and swished it around himself. Suddenly, the man’s hair was blond, he looked a few years younger and his nose got a bit smaller. Harry could still see some of Barty Crouch Jr. in him, but only if he looked close enough.

“How did you do that? I thought you couldn’t change your appearance without a Polyjuice potion.”

Barty shrugged. “Glamor.”

“I have never heard of that.”

The other man smirked and started to walk towards the booth. “That’s because they’re illegal.”

Oh. Okay.

Harry hurried up after him. They stopped in front of the booth. “The Ministry of Magic is in a telephone?”

“Morgana, kid, no. That’s just an entrance. Come in.” Barty inclined his head to the booth.

The Gryffindor’s cheeks burned as he did as was asked. Barty followed him and closed the door behind them. It was a rather small space for an adult and a teenager to fit in, but big enough that they didn’t have to be pressed against each other.

The Death Eater turned to the telephone. “For muggles, this is a completely normal telephone, but once you put in the right number…” he trailed off, before starting to put in a set of numbers. _62442._

“Does it mean anything?” Harry asked, trying to remember the combination.

“Yeah, look. It spells out MAGIC. The guy that made this, had a great sense of humor, ha-ha.”

Harry wanted to ask the man how he knew that, when a robotic female voice spoke up over their head. “State your business, please.”

Barty coughed. “We’re going to the head office of Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Our neighbour made a tornado out of cauldrons, it’s really terrible.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows at him. Barty gave him a shit-eating grin.

The robotic voice said no more and for a while nothing happened. And then the floor decided to start to move and their entire cabin went flying down.

Harry yelped and gripped a side handle. It was like traveling in an elevator, that rode at the same speed of the Knighting Bus.

Barty just laughed.

They then made a turn to the left, then right and the up again and finally, finally stopped. Harry took deep breaths. That had been insane.

The Death Eater simply opened the door and walked out.

Harry glared at him, but followed. He looked around and stopped. So this was the Ministry of Magic… and it was breath-taking.

They stood in what he would best describe as an Atrium. The ceiling was made from glass, which allowed streaks of light to shine down. The wall on either of the sides from where they’ve come from, was lined with fireplaces busting with people. A constant flow of witches and wizards came and went. The Floo connection was strong here, apparently.

Across from the hall, he could see a big, golden, fountain. A centaur, a goblin, a house-elf and a wizard all stood there in harmony.

The person that made this must have really been a hypocrite.

“Close your mouth or you’ll catch a fly,” Barty giggled.

Harry sent him a glare but closed it. “What now? Will they just… _let_ us inside to get the prophecy?”

“Oh, no. They’d be fools to. We’ll need to state the _true_ reason why we’re here now.” The other man seemed rather sad about it.

They headed to a counter on their left side. A small, pudgy wizard sat behind and completely ignored them, reading some book instead.

Barty took out his wand and pushed it to him. “Hi!”

Harry, wand-less as it was, just stood there. The wizards ran the wand through something before pushing it back. “Your state of business?”

“You see,” Barty lent his elbows on the counter, “my friend here, he’s _really_ into Divination, you know. Keeps talking about how there must be some prophecy for him or something. So he kept bugging and nagging until I finally took him here. We just need to get to the Hall of Prophecies, mate. To show him he’s not anything special, so we can move on.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows at him. _Really, Barty?_

But the officer wasn’t moved. “We don’t allow strangers into the Department of Mysteries.”

Barty gave him a tight smile, before turning to Harry. ‘Plan B’ he mouthed.

“Well okay, but you _would_ take Harry Potter, right?”

The man _finally_ looked up and his eyes widened. Then he gave a grumble. “Wand?”

“I don’t have it with me.” Harry said. The man looked ready to not let them through. He decided to channel his inner Slytherin and quickly blurted out, “I decided it would be safer, you see? After all of the letters of not using magic over the summer, I decided it might be better to keep it locked away. I didn’t know I’d need it here.”

The man grumbled again. And then he swished his own wand. “Wait over there, I’ll call an Unspeakable for you.”

Harry smiled in relief. They walked a feet metres away and he turned to Barty. “You’re such a Slytherin.”

“Nah, kid. I was in Ravenclaw. But how did _you_ end up in Gryffindor? That was brilliant.”

The Boy Who Lived gave the man an innocent smile. “Well, the hat almost put me in Slytherin, so…”

Barty snorted.

“You really were in Ravenclaw?” It was a bit hard to imagine.

“Not every Death Eater is a Slytherin, kid. And yeah, you should have heard my father when he got the news. He was _so_ proud… and then in the next sentence he told me that if I did get something worse than Exceeded Expectations, he’d threw me out the house. Great father, he was…”

Harry never thought he would feel sympathy for someone like Barty Crouch Jr. The man was a Death Eater. He kept a man in a trunk for 10 months! And yet…

He had never thought too much about what he’d found out about Bartemius Crouch Sr. But he remembered that the man kept his own son under Imperius for more than 11 years.

He awkwardly patted the man on the shoulder. “Relatives suck.”

Blue eyes flittered towards him. “From how skinny you are, I’d say you have experience, huh?”

Harry quickly started to shake his head. “Oh no, no I- “

“C’mon, kid, you’re like a _stick._”

The Gryffindor decided to change the topic. “Who are the Unspeakables?”

Barty looked at him for a bit, before giving a shrug. “Weird, mysterious guys in capes that work in the Department of Mysteries. Can’t speak about what they’re doing so… Unspeakables.”

“What do they do in there? Are they creating a nuclear bomb?”

“What’s a nuclear bomb?”

Sigh. “Nothing.

Harry looked across the atrium and noticed a person clad in black walking towards them. It could be both a man or a woman, the cape gave nothing away. The person’s hood was pulled down over their face and Harry suddenly realized just how fitting the name was.

The Unspeakable came to them. They looked at Barty and at Harry and then spoke. “You want to go to the Hall of Prophecies?”

“I heard there’s a prophecy about me. If it talks about me, I have the right to take it, right?”

The Unspeakable pulled out his wand and waved it around Harry. The boy stiffened, wearily watching the wand. Then a holographic table appeared before them. Harry’s picture stared back at him, along with name, date of birth and other information.

The cloaked person hummed. Harry thought it sounded rather masculine. Then the table disappeared and the Unspeakable nodded. “Follow me, then. I am Unspeakable Greengrass.”

Harry was pretty sure there was a Daphne Greengrass in Slytherin in his year. He stored this information for later as they followed the man through the atrium and towards an elevator.

The Unspeakable stayed silent and so did they. Barty looked positively giddy, but Harry felt quite nervous. What was he even doing in here? Going to some weird part of the Ministry to get a prophecy – for _Voldemort_.

What if something went wrong? What if they found out about Barty? Not good…

They took the elevator and went down. Beyond their heads flew tiny little paper birds and Harry couldn’t help but smile at them. He expected to go far down beyond London, but the elevator stopped at the next level with a ping. _“Department of Mysteries, Level 9,”_

And so they went. No one else had been in the elevator with them, so they were the only ones in here. And as they headed down the cold, dark hallway, Harry realized he had _been_ here, before.

The black tiles, the seemingly never ending halls and the one single door… he had seen those over and over again_,_ in his dreams. For the last few weeks, his nightmares had taken a new turn. It was either the Graveyard… or this. This single hallway, leading to one set of doors…

And it made sense now. He knew those dreams were from Voldemort, and Voldemort wanted inside. For the prophecy.

It all made sense.

They finally reached the door. One single door in this whole floor, wow. Minimalist, huh?

Unspeakable Greengrass opened them. And they stepped inside.

Only to find… more doors. All around them. Okay, Harry took it back, this was not minimalist at all.

It was confusing. It was really, really confusing, because the room was circular and all of them looked the same.

The Unspeakable led them to the centre. “We’ve got this for the outsiders. If anyone else than an Unspeakable comes in, the doors will start changing places, and the intruder won’t ever find their way out.”

He seemed rather pleased about it.

Harry looked at Barty. The Death Eater made a face.

As it was, the doors stayed in their places and they followed the man to the ones of their left. Harry tried to count which one it was, but to no avail, as once they stepped into the other room, the doors started to spin.

He was suddenly very glad for their guide.

“Well… here we are. Good luck finding your prophecy.”

Harry turned around. And gaped.

The room they stood in was _huge_ as in, storage-rooms level huge. And all around, stood tall shelfs, bursting to the brim with glowing balls.

Blue, shining globes.

And Harry was supposed to find _his_ one in this whole room.

“Um… do Accio’s work?” He asked.

Unspeakable Grengrass cackled. “Nah, kid. There’s protective charms everywhere. You try to reach for the wrong one and it eats your hand.”

“So I can only take my own?”

The man nodded, before leaning against the wall.

Harry gulped. Okay…

“Um… I’ll take this side and you this?” He turned to his companion.

Barty gave a nod. And they split apart.

It seemed to take forever. Harry walked around, searching through ever shelf he could find, but for a long time, there was nothing. Until finally, _finally,_ after about 50 shelfs later, he stumbled across his own name.

“Barty!” He called for the other man.

The Death Eater was with him in seconds. “You got it?”

Harry did. Truly. This globe was a bit smaller, and yet, it was almost calling to him. The small nameplate underneath, read:

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_Harry James Potter_

_Spoken by: Sybille Trelawney_

_Date: 21.2.1980_

Barty’s eyes glowed. “It’s here.”

“Should I… should I take it?”

“No, you should stand here and look at it.”

Harry sighed. And then slowly reached for the globe. _Please, don’t let it eat my hand._

He closed his eyes and reached for it. Then his fingers curled around the globe and he pulled it towards him.

This was it. The prophecy. The one thing that Voldemort wanted so much, he kidnapped Harry to bring him. The one thing that made Voldemort want to kill him. The one thing that turned them into enemies, that… that killed his parents.

It seemed so… small.

He looked up at Barty. The man’s eyes were fixated on the globe, hungrily taking it in.

The Gryffindor closed his hand around it and put it into his pocket.

“Okay. Let’s go back.”

And so they did.

***

Lord Voldemort was waiting in the same room.

Harry and Barty had left the Department of Mysteries with Unspeakable Greengrass. The man seemed content with watching them like hawk until they reached the exit.

Once they appeared in the back alley, Barty changed his appearance back to normal. It was a bit startling, since Harry was already starting to get used to the blond version. Then they Appeared back to the manor.

Harry would like to say he managed it better than last time. He really would.

But here they were. Back in the Manor, and back in the study.

Voldemort was currently sitting behind his desk, but once they came in, he stood up.

Harry offhandedly noticed the Dark Lord changed from his robes. He currently wore a white dress shirt and black pants and he looked –

_SHUT UP!_

Ruby eyes pierced into Harry’s. “Do you have it?”

The Boy Who Lived reached into his pocket and carefully pulled the prophecy out. Voldemort’s gaze turned hungry.

_“The prophecy,”_ he hissed out and it took Harry a few seconds to realize it was in Parseltongue.

Harry simply nodded, holding the globe between them.

This was it. In a moment, they were going to find out the truth. Their entire lives could change. What if the prophecy spoke about their Marks? About them being Soulmates? He wasn’t ready to reveal that to Voldemort yet.

And still. They both stared at the ball. A pair of crimson red and a pair of Avada green looked at little thing, that held way more potential than it showed.

“Should we listen to it?” Harry asked, unsure.

Voldemort stepped closer, so they were just a few steps apart. “Yes. Do it. Break it.”

“Break it? You want me to break it?”

“It’s how it works. It’s also safer – it won’t exist anywhere but our memories.”

Harry looked at the globe. Okay. Okay. Voldemort stared at him, waiting. Barty watched them from Harry’s left.

He grabbed the prophecy. And with a deep breath, he let it go.

The ball flew, down, down and down – and then it smashed.


	3. Chapter 3

_“…The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches,_

_Born to those who had thrice defied him,_

_Born as the seventh month dies._

_And the Dark Lord shall Mark him as his equal, _

_But their beings are way beyond intertwined._

_And either must die at the hand of the other,_

_But neither can live while the other survives._

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”_

Sybille Trelawney’s words faded to nothing and the room settled in silence. A startled, uncomfortable, confused kind of silence.

Harry simply stared at the ground where the blue shattered pieces laid while last remaining of smoke, that trickled out when it broke, dispersed into air.

His mind ran over the words again. Born as the seventh month dies – 31st july, here we go. Dark Lord – Voldemort – marking him? As an equal? And he had the power to _vanquish_ him? What did that word even mean?

And what the hell was that stuff about their beings being intertwined? Was it referring to them being Soulmates?

It was confusing. It was so confusing.

But one thing was clear – they were going to kill each other.

He took a step back. And then some more. Voldemort _did_ promise him civility, but what the heck did _that_ even mean? In old Voldy’s terms, that could very much be not torturing someone at every minute. Now there was a prophecy telling him to kill Harry. Great!

Red eyes latched on him. “Where do you think you’re going, Potter?”

He gulped. “Um… away from potential curses-throwing maniacs who might want to kill me?”

He sometimes really hated his inability to think before speaking.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, before taking few long strides towards him, stopping right in front of him. “We swore a Vow.”

Harry’s eyes flittered to a side. “I don’t trust you. That thing just said we’re going to kill each other!”

His (Unknowing) Soulmate rolled his eyes in what seemed to be both annoyance and boredom. “It said it’s a possibility, not that we should jump right into it.”

Harry thought for a moment that that sounded like an innuendo, but quickly shook it off. He narrowed his eyes, properly looking at Voldemort’s stance. He looked straight out _bored._ Almost as if he couldn’t care less about what the prophecy said.

“You don’t seem very concerned about it.”

“It’s a few lines that an old hag said some years ago. It’s probably true, but prophecies are sneaky little things. And they like to play with words. That prophecy probably means something entirely less. It doesn’t matter what it says, it just draws the most possible future. It’s on us now, to decided how we act.”

The Boy Who Lived furrowed his brows. In all his years of studying (*cough* lazing around *cough*) Divination, he never heard anything similar. They didn’t even truly talk about prophecies. From the tiny bit he’d heard about them, he simply assumed they must be true.

“How do you know all of that? You sound like you studied it.”

An abhorring sneer made its way to Voldemort’s mouth. “I did go to Divination in Hogwarts, if you must know. A truly useless magic art if you want to hear my opinion. Unless you have the gift of seeing, you’re better of calculating statistics. I walked out after the second class.”

That seemed so much like Hermione, Harry had to blink a couple of times. “You walked out?”

Voldemort hummed, sounding deep in thoughts. “Yes. But the only reason why I stayed until the second one, was because it would be too rude if I were to leave in the first day. I didn’t need something like that ruining my image…”

Oh yeah, Voldemort and his ‘image’. Bloody Slytherins.

The Dark Lord shook his head. “But anyway – even thought I detested this particular branch of Magic, I read up some things on my own. You never know when it gets useful. Sadly, I didn’t really think about that when I heard the prophecy few years back…”

Harry started to shake his head in amazement. Complete Hermione.

He thought about what the man said. “Okay. Guess… I agree on you on the fact that it’s bullshit. But…um… it still said we’re going to kill each other. Like… definitely.”

“That’s why we have to try to go over it and figure out what it means. Come on.” Voldemort turned around and headed back to his desk, waving his head in the direction of a chair.

Harry looked at Barty, who still leaned against the wall few metres away and the man gave him a shrug. Harry shook his head and quickly followed.

He stopped before the table. Voldemort lifted his eyebrows. “Sit down.”

“Oh? W-why?”

Sigh. “Did anyone tell you, how excruciatingly annoying you are, Potter?”

_Yeah, like every frigging day._

Harry rolled his eyes at his nemesis and sat down. The older man sat down as well, before looking at the last person in the room.

“Barty,”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Go do something useful, will you?”

Barty bowed. “Yes, my Lord.”

Then he walked towards the door, before turning to Harry. “Bye, kiddo!”

Harry gave him an awkward wave. “Bye, Barty…”

And the man was gone. The doors clicked shut. And he was left with Voldemort. Alone.

He carefully turned back, so he was facing him again. Voldemort was staring right at him with a calculating look in his eyes. Harry didn’t like it one bit.

“What?” He asked uneasily.

“Barty said a lot of things about you.”

“What?”

“He _was_ your teacher, after all.”

Harry shook himself. “Yeah, and it was bloody weird.”

Voldemort’s eyes were still piercing through him. “He said you can resist the Imperius curse.”

“You’re not planning on testing that out, are you?”

He got an unimpressed look in response. Okay, maybe he should bite down the sass for one second. “But yeah, he’s right. I guess I can resist it.”

“How?”

“I don’t know… everything just feels too nice and like… that’s just too weird for me. Feeling nice isn’t the default for me… Why did you let him stay? He heard the prophecy.”

Voldemort hummed. “I thought it might be better to have a witness.”

“A witness? For what?”

“Well, Potter, I don’t think Dumbledore would be very happy to hear we both heard it. He could erase it from our heads. I’m not saying he will, but Barty was a precaution. Nobody knows he’s alive, so if someone takes the prophecy from us, we still have Barty’s memories.”

He looked back at the closed door. “And you… trust him? That he won’t spill it?”

The red eyed man let out a short laugh. “I don’t trust anyone, Potter. But Barty had always been very loyal to me. I guess that to some degree, I do trust him.”

Harry took that in, before nervously shifting in his seat. Voldemort was still staring at him and it was getting uncomfortable. “Didn’t you want to talk about the prophecy.”

Voldemort sighed, his eyes _finally_ leaving Harry’s face. “Yes. I did. You’re a very interesting individual, Potter.”

Then he waved his hand and two thing materialized on the table between them – a parchment and a feather. Harry had to blink in surprise. That was both non-verbal _and_ wand-less magic.

“You remember it?” He asked. Because truly, Harry didn’t.

Voldemort gave him a look and then put his wand to his temple. Then, it the same fashion Harry had seen Dumbledore do it, he pulled out a silver, shining thread. A memory. But instead of putting it in a Pensieve, the Dark Lord… threw it in the air?

And Harry had to gape as Trelawney’s voice filled the air. A projection of the scene played right next to them. It was almost like a muggle hologram.

Harry re-watched the memory, while Voldemort wrote the prophecy down. Then he waved his wand and the projection disappeared.

The Gryffindor looked down at the parchment. Tom’s neat handwriting stared right back at him and he had to squash the thoughts coming into his mind.

He stared at the prophecy. The lines shone on the paper, touting both of them, somehow.

They both stayed silent for a while. Just… looking at it.

It was Harry who broke the silence. “What does it mean?”

It was a stupid question, frankly, but Voldemort answered. “That’s… up to question.”

They looked at it again.

“Okay. So… what did you hear the first time?”

“_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who had thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.”_

“That was it? That’s all? Really?”

Voldemort sighed. “You see, Potter, at that time, there was a war going on. And the prophecy in itself was a _very_ important pawn in the game. Dumbledore had it, which meant he’d make you into a soldier. And I heard it, which meant the only thing I could do was… well eliminate the danger, before it _became_ one. And really, there was prophecy saying you could kill me, I freaked out, okay?”

If Harry didn’t get surprised by Voldemort’s use of language in the last sentence, he’d probably wonder at the use of strategic.

“You were insane. There’s nothing more to that.”

The Dark Lord glared at him.

Harry decided to let it be (for his own safety).

“So um… how did you even find me, if you had so little?”

“Ah, it might be short, but it says a lot. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. _You’ll be strong enough to ‘vanquish’ me, or well, kill me. _Born to those who had trice defied him. _Simple, your parents are fighting against me and we already had three encounters, that they had survived. Which means they’re probably in the Order, or at least on the Light side. _Born as the seventh month dies._ You were born in 31st of July… the end of the seventh month. There were only two couples expecting at that time. Easy.”

Harry cocked his head to one side. It was surprising just how little you could get out of three lines. But he was right. It all fitted. But wait…

“Two couples? Who else?”

“The Potters and the Longbottoms. I’ve decided to choose you. You were born on the 31st, while the Longbottom child was born day before you. Plus, you’re also a half-blood. I thought it’d be more fitting…”

Harry felt his eyes pop out. “_Neville _could have been the Boy Who Lived?”

“Dumbledore didn’t tell you? Ah… then I guess you also don’t know what happened to his parents.”

Harry’s eyes shot up. “You killed them too?”

“No, _you_ already killed me, by that time. But… a few of my Death Eaters went to their house. They tortured them until they went insane.”

Just about twenty insults came to the tip of Harry’s tongue. But his bafflement stopped them from coming out. Poor Neville…

In the end, he looked straight into Voldemort’s eyes. “So you ruined an innocent kid’s life even though, you already chose? You made two people go insane and a took them away from their child, even if you knew you’d go after somebody else?”

The man didn’t say anything. He simply crossed his arms and looked back at Harry with a pensive look on his face.

Harry clenched his fists under the table. Right. He shouldn’t forget who he was speaking with. He was miffed. Fuming. But seeing Voldemort’s unwavering, silent look, made him shake these thought off. The Dark Lord wasn’t going to justify his actions, so Harry’s anger wasn’t going to take them anywhere.

He turned back to the prophecy, pushing the parchment closer to himself. One thing had to be said, he really _did _have a beautiful handwriting…

Whatever.

“So the first three lines are simple. Okay. Then after… _And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal…_ I guess you marked me with the scar…” he rubbed the place with his fingers. Surprisingly enough, it hadn’t hurt even once through the entirety of this meeting.

Voldemort uncrossed his arms and leaned closer. “Yes. I think you might be right about that… but the part about us being equals? Hm…”

It didn’t seem that he liked it too much. Harry gave him a shrug, making sure to look just as unknowing as the other man. But as he read through the words again, he was starting to see a different explanation.

What if the mark didn’t mean the scar? What if… it was his Soulmate Mark? Then them being equals would make a lot more sense.

But there was no way he was going to tell Voldemort all of this. No. Nope. Nu-uh. Absolutely not.

“_…But their beings are way beyond intertwined… _I’m… not exactly sure what this means.”

Harry _did_ know, but decided to offer a different explanation, before the man figured it out himself.

“Um… maybe… you know, maybe because I can see into your head and my scar always hurts, and we’ve always been fighting each other? So… we’re like ‘intertwined’ by fate, or whatever?”

The man straightened. Then he abruptly stood up, his voice coming out in an angry hiss. “_You can see into my head?!?!”_

Harry shrunk back. _“I-it’s not my fault! I can’t control it! I just get these dreams.”_

Another shock ran through the older man. He stepped back, suddenly calm. He narrowed his eyes. _“You can understand me?”_

Harry frowned. _“Um, yeah? You’re speaking in English.”_

_“No, Potter. _Now, I’m speaking in English. You can understand Parseltongue?”

Oh. Oh! Damn Harry for his stupid disability to differentiate between these languages. Voldemort had been speaking in Parseltongue! Grah!

But he wasn’t seething anymore, so… good? He shrugged, nervously scratching the back of his head. “Um, yeah. I’m a Parseltongue. I thought you already knew.”

Voldemort continued watching him. Harry thought he could see calculation in his red eyes.

“No… I did not know… how could I?”

“I found out in my 2nd year. The whole school thought I opened the Chamber of Secret. But it was your diary who did it. I thought you’d… I don’t know, hear about it from _someone?_ I’m sure Malfoy has definitely told his father. Or maybe that it was in the papers?”

Voldemort stayed silent for a moment, before sitting back down. “Alright then. Doesn’t matter much, I guess. But what the _hell_ did you mean that you can see into my mind?”

“Look, if I could stop it from happening, I would. I just get dreams, sometimes. Of… you, doing things. It started last summer. I saw you and Wormtail and Barty in this house. It looked… way shabbier than now, but you were all here and you were talking about some plan you had for me. And then you killed that old gardener. I kept having similar nightmares for most of the year.”

“Did you see anything else?”

“Um… yeah. My dreams changed this summer. I keep seeing a hallway and a black door. It’s the door at the Department of Mysteries, but I didn’t know that until today. Not much else. Um… I guess I can feel it when you get really angry? Or, really happy? When you get emotional, I feel it. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

They continued to stare each other in the eyes. Harry didn’t like the way the crimson eyes pierced through him, but he refused to look away first.

In the end, it was Voldemort who spoke first. “How is it possible?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know. Dumbledore said that when you tried to kill me, you put some of your powers into me, but… who knows.”

A strange expression clouded Voldemort’s face. But he didn’t respond and instead, turned right back to the prophecy.

“Alright then. I guess we really _are_ intertwined in _some_ ways… but there’s the last two lines that concern me the most. And it’s these two lines that will either help us make peace, or push us against each other again. And yet… they almost don’t make sense.”

Harry looked down.

_And either must die at the hand of the other,_

_But neither can live while the other survives._

“We’re going to kill each other, because we can’t live while the other is alive. What doesn’t make sense about that?” he didn’t understand.

“No, Potter, _re-read _it. _And either must die at the hand of the other, BUT neither can live while the other survives. _Those two sentences are in contradiction to each other. We will kill each other, _however_, we can’t live while the other’s around…? It _shouldn’t_ be in contradiction. The fact that we can’t stand each other shouldn’t mean a problem to us killing each other.”

Voldemort started to mumble to himself. Harry took the parchment and carefully re-read the last part again.

The older man was right – the ‘but’ in there, made zero sense.

He ran over the words again and again. The first sentence was clear. One of them, had to kill the other. Or, possibly, both of them won’t be killed by anyone else then the other one. The second sentence also seemed pretty straightforward. _Neither can live while the other survives. _Neither him, nor Voldemort could live while the other was still alive.

The second sentence sounded like the perfect reason for sentence number 1. So _why_ was there, that stupid ‘but’?

Voldemort kept mumbling. Harry read the words again and again and again. There was no mistaking of the meaning of the first sentence. Thus the second sentence, must’ve had another meaning.

Living. Surviving. Those were… different, right? So maybe…

“Oh my God!” He yelped.

Voldemort looked up. “What?”

Harry could only gape. “I… I… oh my god.”

“Potter?”

“I think I’ve got it.” He breathed out.

That made Voldemort sit up straight (or… straight_er_, the man’s posture was absolutely perfect). He looked at Harry with an expecting look.

So he got to explaining. “Okay, so, it sounds a bit stupid, but I think it could make sense. _Neither can live while the other survives. _We couldn’t figure it out, because we fought it was talking about whether or not we were _alive_. But… what if that’s not the case? Surviving and living are two different things. If you’re only surviving, then your life sucks. You’re not _actually_ living. So maybe, what it’s trying to tell us, is that… neither of us can truly, happily live, while the other is merely surviving.”

Voldemort’s face became impassive. He took the parchment and started to read. Harry squirmed in his seat. It made sense but… what the hell did he even tell Voldemort? That they couldn’t be happy unless the other one was happy too? It made sense Soulmate-wise, but Voldemort didn’t _know_ that. Aaaahhhhhhh this was bad! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

But then Voldemort spoke. “That… makes sense.”

And Harry felt his eyes go wide as saucers. “You-you think so?”

“Yes. It’s… a bit odd, due to our previous encounters, but it seems to make the most sense from everything. And there might be an evidence to support it…”

“Oh?” he tried to sound disinterest.

Voldemort nodded, finally looking up from the parchment.

“Yes. Take last year for example. I was on my way to get a body, an excruciatingly long and painful process. I didn’t even have a body, that’s barely living. And you were dealing with something as stressful as the Triwizard Tournament _and_, as you’ve told me, you were getting dreams from me. I would say neither of us really _lived_ at that time.”

Harry thought about it. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. And then when you were a wraith for 10 years, I was at the Dur- “

He cut himself off. Fuck.

Voldemort’s eyes sharpened. “You were _where,_ Potter?”

Harry shifted. This was bad. This was stupidly, bad, _damn_ his stupid mouth! He couldn’t tell _Voldemort_ that his relatives abused him!

“Um… nowhere.” it sounded more like a question.

The Dark Lord regarded him, for a bit, before a sly look appeared in his eyes. He laced his fingers together and propped his chin on them. “Why, Potter, _you_ were the one to come up with this theory. I think you should continue with what you wanted to say.”

_Stupid Slytherin bastard._

He heavily frowned at him. Voldemort’s look stayed the same. He really wasn’t getting out of this. Grrh.

In the end he slumped down in his seat. “Well, you were a wraith, doing whatever wraiths do and I was… well with my Muggle relatives.”

“Your Muggle relatives?”

“Yeah. My Aunt, Uncle and Cousin. Let’s just say that… they don’t particularly like magic. Or me.”

Voldemort leaned forward, his eyes piercing straight into his. “How did they treat you?”

Harry shifted. “It wasn’t that bad I- “

“_How_, did they treat you, Potter?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because I’m asking.”

“Fine!” with that, Harry finally lost his temper. “You want to hear it? You want to hear I was treated terribly? That I slept in a cupboard under the fucking stairs for _ten years_?! That I had to do everything around the house since I was old enough to walk?! That I had to cook for my Uncle and Cousin, who both eat 4 times the normal amount, and was only given _scraps?!_ That I can’t ever enjoy the beginning feast in Hogwarts, because my stomach is too shrunken? And that I also, can’t enjoy the ending feast, because I have to get used to smaller portions? Or that if I ever did accidental magic, it was ‘freaky’ and I was punished?! You really want to hear all of that?”

It left him panting. He didn’t even realize he had stood up, but here he was, standing before the table and trying to get himself under control. The words had just tumbled out of his mouth, and once it started, there was no stopping them.

But looking at Voldemort’s shocked face, made reality settle heavy in his lungs.

He had never told anyone about this. _Never._ Not even Ron and Hermione knew all of this. They noticed few odd things here and there, but not everything. And he just told all of this to Lord Bloody Voldemort. His worst enemy!

This was so not good. _Why _did he even say all of that? Why?

He was shaking all over. He tried to calm himself down, but it was to no use. He was still mid-freaking out.

And then Voldemort stood up and strode straight to the door.

That shook Harry out of his stupor. He ran after him, completely baffled by this turn of events. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to kill your relatives.”

“What? No!”

Voldemort snarled. “Why?”

“Be-because you can’t just kill people like that!”

“Oh? Really? They abused you and those filthy muggle scums should deserve to live?”

Harry scoffed. “As if you care about what happened to me.”

Voldemort’s look darkened. “_No_ wizarding child should be abused. _None._ I don’t care that you’re my nemesis, Potter, no one deserves what you’ve just described!”

“It wasn’t that bad, okay? They didn’t _abuse_ me, Uncle Vernon never hit me too much and - “

Voldemort suddenly grabbed his wrist and brought it up. Harry cut himself off, shock overcoming both of them, as they stared at Voldemort’s thumb and forefinger. His fingers were touching.

“Morgana, Potter,” the Dark Lord breathed out, “I knew you were skinny, but not _this_… And really? You’re really trying to tell me it ‘wasn’t that bad’?”

Harry felt his cheeks burning in shame. He yanked his hand back and Voldemort let go.

The older man seemed satisfied. Then he turned around and proceeded to continue on his way. Well he _would_ if Harry didn’t pull him back by his robes.

“No. You’re not doing that.”

Voldemort let out an annoyed growl. “Give me _one_ reason.”

“Um… I don’t know? Maybe because I don’t want you to? Or maybe because we have a lot more important things to deal with, right now? Plus, you do realize I kind of put a big amount of trust in you when I told you, right? And you just… almost sprinted out of here? Not fair, dude.”

In another universe, Harry might have noticed the amounts of rhetorical question he had just asked. Not in this one, though.

Voldemort stared at him. Harry stared right back. Finally, the red-eyed man turned around and went back to the table.

Harry slumped in relief. The fight drawn him out.

He dragged himself back to the chair and sat opposite Voldemort. The raven-haired man gazed at the parchment, appearing in deep thoughts.

Harry coughed. “I just wanted to say that it would made sense. You were feeling miserable, me too. And then when I was at Hogwarts, I was fine, but you were too, so… yeah, I guess.”

Voldemort made a sound of agreement.

They sat there in silence for a bit. They understood the prophecy, now, but what to do about it?

“What are we going to do?” Harry asked in the end.

“I suppose… that matters on what we agree upon.”

He sighed. “Why don’t we just swear an oath again? If we swear to not kill each other, we’ll be fine. And maybe in the future, something happens, but who knows.”

Voldemort considered it. “I suppose it might be the best decision. I don’t intend to fight you, Harry.”

“Really? You’re not very good at showing it.”

“I don’t intend to fight you _anymore_. Brat. A truce would be beneficial for me, anyway. I don’t need a distraction like you.”

That… stung. Not really that it _should_, this was Voldemort. But also, this was his Soulmate and… ouch.

Right, Potter, keep it together.

“And I don’t need a lunatic trying to kill me.”

The unimpressed look he got in response was worth it.

“So do you agree upon a magical Oath? Are you willing to swear to never even attempt to kill me? To not do _anything_ with the intention to take my life. Even if we’ll be on opposite sides of the war?”

Harry gulped. On one hand, this was a holy grail. This was perfect. He wouldn’t have to worry about Voldemort ever again. Or well, at least about the man killing him.

On the other…

This was cowardly. And selfish. _So_ selfish. The entire wizarding world looked up to him as their saviour, they all wanted him to fight against Voldemort… and he was throwing that away.

Voldemort raised his eyebrows.

And Harry… Harry could feel his scar tingling and he remembered his Mark. And all of the things he had already done for the wizarding world (All of the things they’d expect him to do).

He nodded. “Yeah. I do. Do _you_?_”_

Voldemort’s lips turned up in a smirk. “Why, yes. I guess it’s time for an Unbreakable Vow, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!  
I'm baaaack!  
This is 4000 words of dialogue. Wow.  
Thanks so much for all of the amazing support you're giving me, I couldn't be happier!  
Also, be sure to check out my other works right [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stigitsune_shipper/works)!


	4. Chapter 4

“An Unbreakable Vow?” Harry asked.

Voldemort cocked his head. “You’ve never heard about it?”

“I’ve heard of magical oaths and vows, yeah, but not the Unbreakable one. I assume it’s the most dangerous one?”

Because what else would Voldemort make him swear, right?

“… you could say that, yes. An Unbreakable Vow is one you simply can’t break. The consequences are beyond jarring.”

Beyond jarring. How descriptive.

But even this was enough for Harry to know, that breaking the Vow, would be like signing your demise.

The other man started to roll up his sleeves. He pulled out a wand a waved it around a few times.

“What did you just do?”

Voldemort snorted. “Oh, don’t worry, Potter. I just called Barty back. We need him for this Vow.”

Okay. Or perhaps, the man was lying, and something terrible was going to happen…

Hm…

Nope, everything was fine.

Harry frowned, looking back to the door. Unbreakable. Unbreakable. His chest tightened up in anxiety. This wasn’t just a promise; this was a magical bonding. It could be something he will forever regret. The prophecy had just stated, that they will be the ones to kill the other. If Harry had made the Vow, it would rip him apart the moment he’d kill Voldemort.

And wise-versa.

The man was writing himself up to a horrifying punishment if he tried to kill Harry. The consequences of breaking the Vow would be serious…Terribly serious.

And Voldemort wanted to do it. He wanted to bind himself like this.

“Wait.”

“Yes, Potter?” the man lifted a lazy eyebrow.

“Why are you so keen on doing this? All you’ve ever wanted before was to kill me. And now you’re willingly putting the option away? Why?”

Voldemort wasn’t expecting this. Harry could see it in the way his nostrils flared and eyes widened. But his expression very quickly smoothed down.

“I’ve told you before. I don’t want you in the way.”

Harry shook his head. “No. No, the Vow is too serious for you to do, because you ‘don’t want me in the way.’ You’re lying.”

“So what if I am? You should be happy I’m giving you a way out.” Voldemort was getting angry.

Harry knew his stubbornness was only going to get him into further trouble. And yet he pressed on.

“You’re not giving me a way out; you’re just making things easier for yourself. You want this Vow more than you should. My reasons are simple – I don’t want to die. But yours? We both know, that if we were to truly face each other in a fight, you’d win. So why do you want this? What happened over the summer, that made you act this way? You were a madman on the graveyard, and here you are now, and still not cursing me into oblivion. I will not do anything unless I know what’s going on. If you want me to swear this Vow… you’ll have to tell me the truth.”

Voldemort’s face stayed impassive through the entirety of Harry’s speech. Then a light of mad anger flickered in his eyes, and the next thing Harry knew, there was a curse flying towards him. He jumped to the side, just a second before a gargoyle behind him exploded.

“That wasn’t an invitation!”

Voldemort growled. “Oh, really? It seemed like that,” he strode straight over to Harry, his raising his wand again.

Harry yelped. “You’re insane!”

The vase on his left got shattered to bits.

Voldemort was fuming.

“I have stood your remarks this whole time. But you’ve gone over the line.”

“Oh really?” Harry almost yelled, “Forget I said anything, you’re still bat-shit crazy!”

Voldemort stopped throwing curses at him. He now stood only centimetres away from Harry. The two of them angrily stared each other down and the boy realized, they were so close they were breathing the same air.

“You are an insufferable, stupid, foolish prat!”

“Yeah? And you sound like Snape!”

Voldemort blinked. Then he scoffed. “Well, I guess I’m starting to see why he can’t stand you.”

And albeit they have screamed at each other before, and Harry had had a lot of chances to get angry, in these past few minutes, this was the thing that turned his blood cold.

He stood there, staring straight into Voldemort’s eyes and he spoke, his voice coming out in a cold hiss. “_Snape doesn’t know a thing about me. And neither do you. I may be a Gryffindor, so yes, I am impulsive sometimes, but I am not stupid. Your whole reaction just proves that I was right – you have a deeper reason to pursue the Vow. I’m not stupid enough to make it if I don’t know your intentions.”_

Surprise flickered through the Dark Lord’s eyes, at the use of Parseltongue (Some stupid part of Harry’s brain marvelled at how enchanting they looked this close. It was a very, very stupid part).

Then he let out a soft scoff. “_For a Gryffindor, you’re showing an unnatural amount of self-preservation.”_

Harry rolled his eyes. _“The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin.”_

Voldemort looked at him for a bit. And then he simply shrugged and pulled away. _“You’re still a brat.”_ he walked back to the table.

Harry blinked a couple of times. They had been after each other’s throats and now this?

He unconsciously crossed his arms across his chest. Voldemort leaned against the table and observed him for a while.

Then he nodded. _“Alright then. I’ll tell you.”_

Harry tried to not show his surprise too much_. “Okay. Go ahead.”_

_“I don’t wish to kill you anymore, Potter. You’re a child. It disturbs me to think I’d pursue your death. You’re also a distraction. And a weapon Dumbledore would love to use against me. The prophecy stated we would be the one to kill each other. No one else. I take you out of the equation – and there’s no one in my way. The Light side won’t be able to use you as their soldier, and if the prophecy is correct, then there’s no one else they’d be able to use. You’re the only one who could kill me, so if you swear the Vow, I’m practically immortal. There. Happy?”_

Silence.

Oh dear…

Harry slowly walked over to a chair and sat down on it. _“You um… you haven’t mentioned this before.”_

_“Unlike you, I am a Slytherin, Potter.”_

The Boy Who Lived gulped. He cursed himself for not realizing this before. Because if he did this, then…

_“If I swear the Vow, I’ll make you immortal.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“You’d be able to do whatever you wanted and no one would be able to stop you.”_

_“They could imprison me if they’d happen to be capable enough. But yes.”_

Harry took a deep breath. He was… well, he was flabbergasted. That was the only way to describe how he felt – he was utterly and totally flabbergasted (and here he thought only Hermione used these words).

He wasn’t hurt, nor betrayed, not really. It simply swept him off his feet.

He had been an idiot, to not think this whole thing through, before he agreed. True, he was lucky enough to ask before he made the Vow, but still…

Was he ready to give Voldemort this advantage? The freedom? The power? He didn’t know.

There was still one thing left…

_“Okay. Still doesn’t explain why you’re not a crazy madman, anymore.”_

Voldemort crossed his arms. Then he scoffed. “_I’m not going to tell you everything. Obviously. But if me telling you, is what it takes for you to swear the Vow, then I guess I’ll have to.”_

Harry lifted his eyebrows, beckoning him on.

_“In my teenage years, I have started to search for a way to ensure my immortality. I detest death, and I hoped to cheat it. And eventually, I found something. So I put pieces of myself into various objects. If my body dies, these pieces will keep me in the living world. That’s how I survived the night in Godric's Hollow. My body was destroyed, but my essence stayed here, and I was able to create another body for myself. But I didn’t know, that tearing myself apart, could have… negative effects on my mental health.”_

_“You didn’t research it beforehand?”_

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. _“It’s an extremely dark magic, Potter. There was only one single book in the Hogwarts’ library and even there, the information was sparse. But I could either continue, knowing I could die at any moment, or risk this and make the ritual.”_

The Boy Who Lived gulped_. “So you made a lot of these objects and it made you go nuts. So you just… destroyed them?”_

_“No, Potter. It isn’t that simple. Those objects, contain pieces of myself. They ensure my immortality. They are very precious to me. But they can be destroyed. And tearing yourself apart… isn’t a good thing. In the end, I reabsorbed most of them. I didn’t plan on doing it, mind you, but a few days after our encounter at the graveyard, something happened.”_

_“What?”_

_“One of the pieces came back. On its own. A rather big part, too. And from what I’ve heard, you’re the reason why it came back. You remember my diary, don’t you, Potter?” _

Harry blinked. Oh. _Ooh_.

_“That wasn’t just a memory of you. That _was_ you. And I destroyed it.”_

A lazy shrug. _“You surprisingly enough only demolished _the object_. The piece flew right back into me once I had a body. I very quickly realized what I had done to my sanity and restored the rest. Some are… unfortunately missing, but most of them are gone. But with less objects, the less immortal I’m becoming.”_

And the final puzzle piece clicked into place. “_So if I swear the Vow, you have a failsafe. If your objects get destroyed.”_

The man gave him a pleasant smile. _“Yes.”_

Harry ran a hand through his hair. _“All of this. Just for immortality. You know an average wizard lives to like… 160 or something, right? That’s a big amount of time.”_

_“Yes, but not enough for me to accomplish everything I want to. Will you swear the Vow, or not?”_

Harry tapped his fingers on the desk. Tap, tap, tap…

Knock, knock, knock.

Both of them looked to the door.

Voldemort sighed and switched back to English. “Come in!”

Harry blinked a couple of times. He got so used to the Parseltongue, that hearing the other man talk in English was strange. It was startling to think that they’ve spent an entirety of 20 minutes talking in the tongue of snakes.

Barty Jr. came in, bowing to Voldemort. “You wanted to see me, my Lord?”

The Dark Lord nodded. “Yes, I did. We need you to be our witness for the Unbreakable Vow. Once Potter decides, of course” he gave Harry a pointed look.

Harry felt like telling him off but stopped himself. Was he going to swear the Vow, or not?

He… okay, yeah, he wanted to. Damn the consequences, he wanted to be able to live his life in safety. He wanted to not be a soldier. He also wanted to be at peace with his Soulmate.

But did the pros outweigh the cons? Were there any cons for him? Or was he just thinking about everyone else, again?

“I’m waiting, Potter.”

Harry glared at him.

Somebody might still put Voldemort in prison. Like they did with Grindelwald. He also had zero ideas, as to what Voldemort planned on doing now. He wasn’t insane, anymore. So, perhaps, he might stop with his idiotic quest of killing off all Muggleborns.

And if Harry saw Voldemort was doing terrible things… then he will bring him down. And die with him.

Voldemort tapped his foot on the floor.

_Impatient bastard_, Harry thought with a small smile.

Then he turned to look his ex-nemesis in the eyes. “Yes. I’ll make the Vow.”

The man smiled, a dangerous light shining in his eyes. Harry gulped, before standing up. The prospect of making another Vow – graver than the one before – made him nervous. His hands felt clammy.

But he sure as Hell wasn’t going to allow Voldemort to see it.

So he clenched his teeth and walked over.

Voldemort pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and handed his right hand to Harry. The boy quickly did the same.

When their hands enclosed, Harry noticed 2 things. 1) Voldemort’s grip was firm and steady, but not crushing or painful. 2) There was a very slim line of writing on the inner side of his forefinger.

Harry tried to read it, but it was mostly covered by Voldemort’s hand. And also, every time Harry tried to focus on it, his eyes started to water.

Voldemort must have put some sort of a notice-me-not spell on it. But Harry didn’t have to know what it said, to recognize it.

It was his Mark.

Harry momentarily felt both the need to see it and disgust at the prospect.

“We’re going to start the ritual. Last chance to back out.”

“Just get on with it.”

Voldemort chuckled. Then he beckoned Barty to start.

The young Death Eater pulled out his wand and stepped right next to their conjoined hands. Then he started to chant in Latin, waving his wand in complicated motions. Next, a gold line slowly crawled out of his wand, wrapping itself loosely around their hands.

The Vow began.

Voldemort’s eyes pierced into Harry’s, once again. “Do you swear you will not do anything with the intention of killing me?”

The air turned static. Harry’s right hand started to prickle.

He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

The golden trail wrapped itself around his wrist.

“Do you swear you will not send any of your friends to kill me?”

“Yes.”

Another loop.

“Do you swear you will never destroy any of my objects unless I give you a precise command to do so?”

Harry briefly wondered why Voldemort would ever give him such a command but nodded anyway. “Yes.”

“Do you swear you will never say anything about my objects, to anyone?”

“Yes.”

“And do you swear you will pay with your death if you break any of these promises?”

The Dark Lord’s eyes gleamed like rubies. His scar was softly prickling, not hurtful, but making itself known. Harry’s wrist was wrapped in 4 loops, the trail heading for another one – the final one – but stopping, waiting for Harry’s answer.

Harry took a deep breath. The word slipped from his mouth. “Yes.”

The golden line flashed and wrapped itself tighter around him. Another trail headed to Voldemort.

It was Harry’s turn right now.

He wetted his lips. “Do you swear you will not do anything with the intention of killing me?”

“Yes.”

The first loop.

“Do you swear you will not send anyone to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you swear you will not torture me.”

An amused smile. “Yes.”

(Thank Merlin)

Harry looked down on their hands.

Then he remembered all of the things Voldemort still could do to him.

“Do you swear you will not tell about our truce or this Vow to anyone without my consent?”

“Yes.”

“And do you swear you will pay with your death if you break any of these promises?”

Voldemort looked at him, for a long, long time. Then he squeezed Harry’s hand. “Yes.”

The thread flashed again. And proceeded to sink into their skin.

Barty put down his wand.

“There. Done.”

Harry stared at his hand, before feeling Voldemort loosening his hand and he let go with a sad pang in his chest. (That was absolutely not there, he did not feel sad about them not holding hands, why would he feel that way, that was stupid.)

“Thanks, Barty. You can go.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” The man bowed and disappeared again.

Voldemort put his hands into the pockets of his pants. When he turned to Harry, his eyes shone with amusement. “Interesting things you asked of me. Afraid your friends will think you’ve betrayed them?”

He felt his cheeks redden. “No. I’m not betraying them, it’s just… they wouldn’t understand.”

“So exactly as I said.”

Grrrhhhh.

“It doesn’t matter. You wanted me to not talk about your silly containers. As if I knew what they were.”

Voldemort shrugged. “I was simply creating fail-safes.” then he sobered up, “Potter… I did some mistakes in the past. The way I went about things wasn’t exactly… the best. So I understand you have no desire to join me. But if you were to wish so, I wouldn’t mind having you as an aspect of my team.”

Harry felt his eyes widen. “Um… no thanks. I don’t think I’d enjoy murdering innocents.”

Voldemort simply shrugged again. “I don’t exactly plan on that, but… well, my offer still stands if you change your mind.”

Voldemort wanted to have Harry on his side. What the hell. “Why exactly are you offering anything?”

“I wasn’t going to, but… you’re intriguing, Potter. And young. And from I’ve gathered, you’ve only seen the world through Light’s eyes.”

Harry crossed his arms. “So? What’s bad about siding with the good guys?”

The man heaved a sigh. “Terms as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ are irrelevant. There’s no such thing because you can view everything as either bad or good based on your perspective. The Light side is considered ‘good’ because they abide by the law, but shouldn’t they be also considered bad, because they punish wizards for upholding old traditions, or using Dark magic, even if the spells they use are harmless?”

Harry… wasn’t sure what to say. He felt those were some important things, but he didn’t have enough knowledge, to speak about them.

So he pathetically flapped his hands in the air. “They don’t murder people. You do.”

A snort left the man’s mouth. When he spoke again, he changed the theme.

“So where are you heading, after this?”

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock. He… certainly hadn’t expected this question. He quickly closed his mouth, lifting both of his shoulders in a shrug. “Um… I don’t know. I guess back to my relatives.”

Voldemort lifted his eyebrows. The look in his eyes hardened. “Are you serious, Potter? Really? Back to the people you’ve told me about? You can’t mean that you’d willingly go back.”

This surprised Harry even more. Voldemort… cared about where he spent his time?

That was… rather nice.

“I… I don’t know where else to go.” He admitted.

He could write to some people (if they answered) or maybe go to Leaky Cauldron, like in his 3rd year… maybe. Now that the danger of Voldemort killing him has passed, Harry was free to go anywhere.

Voldemort was looking at him like he had grown two heads.

Harry made a face and asked. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, after you told me about your relatives, I figured you might not want to go back. I wanted to offer you to stay here. In my manor. It’s big enough for the two of us to not meet if you wish to.”

Harry felt his mouth fall again. “I… I… what?”

“English, Potter.”

He blushed, “Yeah, I know. I just… you want me to stay here with you? For a month?”

Harry wondered how the man managed to look so indifferent about everything. “Do you have a better place to stay, at?”

“I can find something. I’m sure I could write to some of my friends. Or go to a hotel or something.”

“If you think that would be better. I simply thought you might welcome a change of place. Dumbledore’s people will find you in a matter of days after you leave your relatives.”

“What? No, they wouldn’t. It’s not like I can’t leave my own house.” It sounded unsure even to Harry’s ears.

Voldemort gave him a knowing look. 

Harry sighed. “Okay, yeah. I guess you might be right. Still… thanks for the offer, but I’ll figure something out. And no – I won’t stay with my relatives. Guess you’re right about me being crazy to stay there.”

The dark-haired man nodded. “Alright then. But my offer still stands. You’re powerful. I could teach you a lot.”

The boy blushed. “Eh, until I go through a change of philosophy…”

A soft laugh escaped Voldemort’s lips and Harry had to force himself to not think about how handsome it made him look. “Do me a favour, would you? Read something about the war. Find out what the Dark side stood for before it turned into a full-on war. Take a look at what the Light side is doing right now. And please, don’t read books written by them. They’re heavily prejudiced.”

Harry bit his tongue. It was shameful to think, but… he had never done that. Any of that.

He had taken most things at face value and never bothered to research them. He simply knew Voldemort was a bad guy who killed his parents, hated Muggleborns and Muggles and wanted to kill them all. And also, that he was a Slytherin, that wanted world domination.

Thinking about it now, he realized how ridiculous it sounded. Nothing was ever black and white, he should know that. And truly… he didn’t know much about the Dark side’s ideology. He simply thought they were… well bad people who hated Muggles.

It was easier that way. He didn’t have to think about some of the points Tom had made in his 2nd year. Truthfully, a lot of them made sense. But it was easy to forget them when he wrote Tom off as a madman.

He pushed them shame aside. “I still don’t think any of those facts would justify murder.”

Voldemort hummed. “No, they won’t. But I don’t plan on going that way. I’d like to take the politician route.”

Harry blinked. “Oh-oh? Really?”

“Yes. I realized it might be a bit more practical. And easier. You make people love you and they give you everything.” He smirked.

_Well… he’s not wrong…_

“That’s… surprisingly peaceful of you.”

Voldemort lifted one eyebrow. “Should I start throwing curses, again, or…”

“I’m good, I’m good!”

The Dark Lord laughed. “Good. Then you should probably go. I’m afraid my patience is starting to run out.”

_Leave? So soon?_

_Wait, what the fuck? Did I just think I wanted to stay with Voldemort longer?_

_I’m going insane. Yes. Absolutely. What the hell._

“Oh? I’m free to go?”

“No, Potter, I’m going to handcuff you to the bed.” He deadpanned.

(That sounded… hum…)

“Oh, cool. Um… I’m not sure where we are. Or how to get back.”

Voldemort grabbed a tiny tennis ball and threw it at Harry. The boy caught it, gently squeezing it.

“That’s a Portkey. Say the destination, and it will take you there.”

Harry looked at it for a moment, feeling warm spreading inside his chest.

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Now go.”

Harry decided to be a little shit. “Aw, but I thought you liked talking with me.”

Voldemort started to pull out his wand.

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” he rushed to the door.

He reached for the doorknob when Voldemort called after him. “Potter.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t talk about what I’ve told you, to anybody, yes?”

Harry felt himself smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not stupid.”

The other man smiled too. “Goodbye.”

Harry nodded. “Bye.”

With one last glance, he walked out and softly closed the door.

All air seemed to leave his lungs, at once.

That was… that was…

That was a lot.

And yet something in him wanted their conversation to continue.

It didn’t matter. Today had turned out a lot better than he thought it would. He and Voldemort even made a truce. That was good.

Morgana….

He might have just done the worst mistakes of his life. He also might have made the _best_ decision of his life.

He squeezed the ball. “Number 4, Privet Drive, the backyard.”

The ball glowed blue. And then Harry could feel something pulling at his navel and he went swirling away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovelies!  
New chapter coming!   
Harry and Tom finally made the Vow!  
And we got some explanation.   
Thank you all for the amazing support, I adore you guys :) <3  
Sorry for any mistakes,  
Sti


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: a detailed panic attack ahead, just letting you know :)

**Chapter 5**

The world around him cleared up and Harry fell face-first into the dirt.

It punched all air from his lungs and he laid there for a while, gasping for breath.

_Damn Portkeys._

Ahh… he hated wizarding transportation. It felt as if they were trying to murder him.

He blew out a gust of air and looked at the sky. Nice blue colour, with only a few tiny clouds. Seemed like it was going to be a nice day... His neighbours were probably already bustling around…

Oh, snap.

He quickly sat up, looking around. Someone could have seen him. Frick, frick, frick-

Wooden planks of Number 4’s fence stared back. And with them, empty gardens of his neighbours.

But no one insight.

Harry let out a relieved sigh and crawled to his feet. One disaster avoided, then.

But as he turned to face the house, he realized another one was coming right his way.

The Dursleys.

The Boy Who Lived felt all of his energy escape him like air from a deflating balloon.

He hated that house. And he hated having to go inside. But even though he promised Voldemort he wasn’t coming back, he still had most of his things in there. And until he figured out where to go… well, it seemed he was going to have to stay in Number 4 for a bit longer.

He heaved a sigh, prayed to Merlin his relatives were currently gone and walked into the house.

He walked in through the back door and quickly went to the stairs, making sure to move as quietly as possible.

But Fate had it out for him because just as he walked into the hall, his Aunt’s nasal voice called from the kitchen.

“Boy! Get in here!”

Harry halted and let out a resigned sigh. _Fuck it. _

He turned around, trudging towards the kitchen. Circe, he was starting to regret not accepting Voldemort’s offer.

Anywhere was better than _here._

He walked into the kitchen, putting on an impassive mask. “Yes, Aunt Petunia?”

His Aunt was sitting behind the kitchen table, reading some sort of a magazine for middle-aged women.

His uncle and cousin were nowhere in sight. A good thing, for now.

Petunia sneered at him. “Where were you the entire morning? Do you know how much work I was forced to do, because of your inability to act like a normal human being? The least you could’ve done was to at least not come back.”

Words like these used to hurt, but nowadays, Harry hardly cared. He let them wash over him, but he’d become numb to them a long time ago.

He didn’t bother replying. Something in him revolted at the thought of doing _anything_ they wanted from him.

Voldemort _really_ had been right – coming back was insanity.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?”

_Really?_

He looked at his Aunt and the kitchen. He spotted the pile of unwashed dishes, that he _knew_ he’d be forced to do, if he was around, along with twenty other things. Yeah right. Poor Aunt Petunia for having to do something.

He shrugged. “No. But you should wash the dishes.”

He turned around and walked away, ignoring his Aunt’s indignant yells.

He stepped into his room and locked the door.

Morgana…

He flopped onto his bed, absently rubbing his scar. He knew this wasn’t going to end up well. Hell, once Uncle Vernon came back, he was going to be in some deep trouble.

And yet…

He felt himself smile at the shocked look in his Aunt’s eyes. She deserved it.

His fingers traced his Mark and his thoughts once again came back to the Dark Lord.

Intelligent, cunning, ambitious, confident, powerful…

You couldn’t find a better example of a Slytherin. Jeez, the man was like a walking textbook definition.

And yet, while Harry usually despised these traits, he couldn’t help but _like_ this new Voldemort.

He liked the man’s wit and remarks and way of thinking and…

Ah, fuck it.

He liked him.

Shit.

No. Wait, no, he didn’t _like _him. He didn’t mean it like that. He just appreciated the change in the man’s behaviour, that was all.

_Yeah, right, you _totally, only_ appreciate him pffffff._

Why did his brain have to be snarky towards him? It wasn’t fair.

_Well, he _is_ your Soulmate. It’s to be expected._ A part of him tried to comfort him.

Urgh, that didn’t mean he could straight up forget about _everything_ that Voldemort ever did! He couldn’t _like_ the man. Even if they were Soulmates it didn’t matter. Voldemort was a Dark wizard. He had done terrible things. He was too old for Harry.

And he was way smarter than the boy. Harry would just feel stupid all the time.

_But you talked to him, and you understood each other just fine. Almost better than with your friends..._ A traitorous part of his brain whispered.

And Harry wanted to argue but… well… yeah.

He didn’t _like _the Dark Lord. But saying he hadn’t enjoyed their time together, would be a lie.

Ha, if only his friends knew…

Oh right. His friends.

Harry sat up, looking around the room. Maybe they wrote him during his absence.

He spotted a yellow envelope sitting on his desk and grinned, going over to pick it up. But with a tiny pang of pain, he found out the letter was from Neville.

So… not Ron. Or Hermione. Once again.

He forced himself to get over it and focus on the letter. Maybe_ they_ had, but not everyone had forgotten about him. _Neville_ replied.

He smiled a bit and moved back to his bed, carefully unrolling the piece of parchment.

He straightened it out and blinked at the length. He had expected a simple thank-you note, but Neville actually wrote him a letter. A full letter.

That… that…

He felt warmness spread through his chest and he couldn’t help but smile. Circe, _Neville._ He truly was the sweetest boy around.

And maybe it shouldn’t make Harry as emotional as it just did, but this was the first letter he had got all summer.

Neville really was a great friend. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t seen it before.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and got to reading.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you doing?_

_Thank you for the card, it was nice of you to send me one. I really appreciate you remembering my Birthdays. Ours are just a day apart so, hey – Happy Birthday! You’re officially 15 now! _

_Have you got your Mark? _

_I’m sure you did. I wish you luck in finding your Soulmate. Unless you already know who it is, then you’re a super lucky guy. _

_Things are a bit complicated with mine. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll sort itself out. _

_Anyway, how is your summer going? I know you’re staying with your muggle relatives. I’ve overheard you complaining about them to Ron – hope they’re not giving your too much trouble. _

_At my end, things are good. Well, mostly. Granny’s been talking about my Mark the whole summer and now she’s basically ignoring me. I don’t exactly blame her. It’s complicated. _

_But hey, maybe we could meet up? If you’re not too busy of course. I just thought it would be nice to just hang out. Of course, only if you want. _

_Thank you once more for the card and Happy Birthday to you!_

_Neville_

Harry let the letter down and felt himself smile.

After so long of radio silence, he felt like floating.

Neville was a really great friend. Absolutely. Now that Harry thought about it, he started to feel guilty for not talking to him more. Neville was great and Harry should’ve spent more time with him.

His eyes skirted the letter once more and settled on Neville’s words about his Mark. _Things are a bit complicated with mine. But don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll sort itself out. _Hum… He wondered what that was about. Harry’s _own_ Mark was complicated as well.

He cringed a bit at the remark about Neville overhearing him nag about his relatives, but then felt a wave of warm with Neville’s next sentence.

And Neville wanted to meet up. Harry didn’t have to think too hard before making his decision. He was lonely.

Hanging out with Neville would be great.

He walked over to his trunk, pulled out a parchment and a pen and got to writing a response.

***

Dinner than night was awkward.

Harry had expected for his Uncle to come storming up the stairs once he’d heard about the scene from before, but the Dursleys, surprisingly enough, ignored him. Harry was glad.

He didn’t exactly want to go but was forced to, when Aunt Petunia threatened to not give him _any _food from now on, so he got up and trudged himself down.

But once he stepped into the kitchen, he found all three of his relatives staring at him, as if he’d grown a second head.

Harry threw them all a weird look and went to sit. They started to eat, but there was something in the air and Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

Finally, after about a half an hour of wary looks shot his way, Uncle Vernon coughed and said. “So… boy.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows. “Yes, Uncle Vernon?”

“Today is your birthday, yes?”

“Um, yes…?”

“So, today you’ve got your Mark.”

Harry looked at his red-faced Uncle, then at his Aunt and then at Dudley, who, while eating, was still paying close attention.

Why the hell were they so invested in his Soulmate Mark?

He tapped his fingers on the table and then shrugged. “Well, yeah. I got it.”

His Aunt let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God, then,”

He frowned. “Why would you care about my Mark?”

She sneered. “I hardly do. We just wanted to know if you wouldn’t bring even more shame to our family than you do now.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort something equally unkind, when Dudley let out a gasp, the sentence finally making sense in his stupid little brain.

“Wait, _you_ got a _Mark? _There’s something who would _love _you?”

Harry stared at him in silence. Then the vase behind his head exploded.

The Dursleys yelled in shock, but Harry could only see red.

_How the hell did he dare to _say_ something like this?_

He abruptly stood up, feeling his whole body starting to shake. His voice came out cold through his clenched teeth. “Yes, Dudley. There _is_ someone.”

His magic crackled through his whole body and the air went static.

Harry hardly noticed. He felt his Mark thrum. The Dursleys all looked terrified, staring at him with fear in their eyes.

He continued. “I actually went to him this morning. He’s a wizard. Like me.”

Dudley squeaked.

Uncle Vernon got so purple he looked like a beat.

“But unlike me, he can actually do magic around you.”

Aunt Petunia grabbed Dudley, all of them shaking with the implications, of what that could mean for them.

He looked at them and stomped out as fast as he could.

He couldn’t think until he got to his room.

He stepped in, quickly shut the door and leaned against them, trying to calm himself down. He was panting.

Reality slowly set in.

Morgana, why the hell did he react like that? He just… he just got angry. So, fucking angry.

_You had all the right,_ a little voice in the back of his mind whispered, _he had crossed the line._

Harry shook it off, putting his face in his hands. Maybe… Circe, why did he talk about Voldemort? Okay, yes, the man would probably come if Harry wrote to him and… well, let’s not lie to ourselves, he would very happily slaughter them, but how did that thought even cross Harry’s mind?

Something was really wrong with him.

Hedwig flew over to his shoulder and nipped at his ear. He made a sound, before turning to her and gently caressing her chest.

She made him feel better.

“What would I do without you, huh?”

She hooted. But it sounded worried. As if she knew all of the shit he’s been currently dealing with.

He let out a sigh and slowly walked over to his bed. Hedwig staid – like the amazing, wonderful friend she _always_ was – and they sat on the bed in silence.

It was then, that Harry felt the events of the day fully settling in.

And the more and more he thought about them, the sadder and more depressed he started to feel.

It was too much. All of the things that happened… his Mark, getting kidnapped, discovering an entire _prophecy_ about him, talking with Voldemort and now the scene with Dursleys…

_It was too much._

He had felt like he’d processed it before, but now he realized, he wasn’t even sure what all of those things meant.

He had ensured safety for himself. He had a Soulmate. And also, just about everything was fucked up.

Including the Soulmate.

Harry thought about him and felt like crying. Why? Why _him?_ Why someone who fucked Harry up that much? Why someone who gave him nightmares?

_But he’s not like that anymore._ A tiny, hopeful and naïve voice said at the back of his mind.

Yeah, maybe he wasn’t like that at the meeting. But how was Harry to know that would remain? How was he to know that wasn’t an illusion?

And if Voldemort _did_ indeed become sane, again… then how was Harry to know he hadn’t been acting the entire time? Just playing Harry to make him do his bidding, while simultaneously planning on _murdering _him?

Sure. There was the Vow…

But what if that wasn’t true either?

Fuck… he started to feel nauseous.

What if the Vow was a lie? What if it _didn’t_ exist? And Harry just blindly bound himself to something, without thinking?

Okay. Okay, maybe not. Maybe he was overthinking this. Maybe the Vow _was _real and Voldemort wasn’t pretending. Maybe this was his actual _real_ self. Maybe he was really going to take the politician route…

But that still didn’t mean that he would accept Harry once he found out they were Soulmates.

It didn’t mean he would love him.

And that thought hurt so much Harry started to cry. The wave of self-hatred that came after that thought, only made him cry more.

He curled up on himself, sobbing in an uncontrollable matter. A part of him wailed in pain at the possibility of his Soulmate not liking him, while the other swarmed him with insults about _wanting_ to have Voldemort as his Soulmate.

Hedwig left his shoulder and went to sit on her perch, sadly hooting.

Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It hurt. It fucking _hurt_ and he _loathed_ that it hurt and he just wanted to erase those words on his forehead.

He just wanted to be normal. For one single day in his life, he just wanted to be a normal 15-year-old, with friends and a loving family and a nice Soulmate and no requirement to save the world.

And _fuck_ he just wanted his Soulmate to like him.

And also not be the same person who killed his parents.

And also not be the person who tried to kill _him_.

But he couldn’t do anything about that, because it already happened. And his Soulmate _was_ that man.

His Soulmate killed his Mom and Dad and Harry wanted to be with him.

Another wave of self-hatred washed over him and Harry gasped for air. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, fuck he couldn’t breathe. His whole body shook as he choked on sobs, trying to get any oxygen into his lungs and pull himself together.

He curled up in a ball and wanted everything to just stop, _stop, stop_ but his mind kept screaming and screaming and it motherfuckingly _hurt_ and he couldn’t _breathe_ and the world started to spin. And he was alone. Alone like always and Morgana _why did he have to think about that._

He buried his face into his legs, giving up on any of his tries to keep quiet. Uncontrollable and unstoppable sobs hurtled out of his throat and he was alone, and he couldn’t breathe and it was too much everything was just too much fuck why wasn’t there anyone to stop it please just stop, stopstop-

_Breathe. C’mon, breathe. Breathe in. You can do it. Breathe._

The voice appeared out of nowhere and yet the only thing Harry could do was listen. He tried to pull the air in, but he couldn’t.

_It’s okay. You can. It’s mental. You can breathe. _

He whimpered and tried again, but he just couldn’t.

_It’s all in your head. Everything is just in your head._

The voice repeated, sounding gentle and calm, steady. _There._

Harry gasped, finally pulling some air in.

_Okay. Good. Good job. Breathe out._

He exhaled.

_Breathe in… Out… In… Out…_

He listened, steadily feeling himself calm down. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

The voice told him to focus on his breathing and nothing else and Harry did so. Slowly, the tightness in his chest unwounded.

The tears stopped and he felt the anxiety ease up.

He leaned against the wall, only now noticing the layer of sweat coating his body.

A fucking panic attack. Great.

Thank Merlin he had talked himself out of it-

Wait. But that wasn’t him.

Harry furrowed his brows, searching for the voice. Trying to call it back. But it disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

Maybe Harry had just been making stuff up in his delirious state. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He sighed running a hand across his face. _Potter, you’re so stupid._ He thought to himself.

Today had been rough, yes. But that was okay. All of the things had worked out. He had made a deal with Voldemort. He wasn’t going to have to fight him. He had ensured his safety. He could leave the house without the fear of the Dark Lord murdering him. His Soulmate wasn’t going to kill him. He had got a letter from Neville.

He repeated those facts over and over again until he calmed down completely.

Plus, he shouldn’t hate himself for his feelings for Voldemort. The man _was _his Soulmate, after all, and as all of the old legends liked to show over and over again, you couldn’t hate your Soulmate.

It was programmed deep inside you to love them. No matter what.

So yes, it was fucked up, that his Soulmate was the Darkest wizard of his age, but also… well, it wasn’t Harry’s fault.

He didn’t have to blame himself for it. He wasn’t betraying his parents by _feeling_ something.

And to his feelings, well… he had to admit it. He _felt_ something for Lord Voldemort. Which was, Merlin, it was insane, compared to how he had felt before dinner. He had shone away from it but finally admitting it felt freeing in many ways.

He had feelings for Voldemort.

Unwrapped, new, undefined, hesitant feelings that weren’t unlike the ones he had had in his 2nd year.

But with that, he realized one thing. Last time, he had allowed himself to fall for Tom, it only backfired on him. Heavily.

He wasn’t sure if the same thing wasn’t going to happen again. Because while Voldemort couldn’t either kill him or torture him… there was a lot of other ways he could ruin Harry’s life.

So there was only one thing Harry could do if he wanted to come out sane in the end.

He had to push it away. He accepted it, but he had to stop right where he was. Remain unpassionate about Voldemort and not give _anything_ away. Not think about his feelings and _not_ let them grow any bigger.

He couldn’t afford his feelings for his Soulmate to go any further. Not until he knew for _sure_ that Voldemort could requite them.

Harry took a deep breath and gently touched the scar.

It had been a long day.

***

Tom Marvolo Riddle was procrastinating.

He was supposed to write a letter to the Vampire clan, with the offer of alliance, and yet he’d been staring at the wall before him for the past half hour, so deep in his thoughts, he hadn’t even noticed the sunset down.

He looked down at the inkblot he had managed to make on the letter and put the whole thing away.

It wasn’t as if he could continue with his current state of mind.

Lord Voldemort didn’t let his thoughts wander. It was a stupid waste of time. And yet today he couldn’t focus.

Because all of his thoughts always came back to one thing.

Harry Potter.

Just like in the years before, the boy was all he could think of. But unlike his past self, who constantly planned the boy’s death, Tom now couldn’t stop _marvelling_ at the boy’s oddity.

There was one thing he had come to see today: Harry Potter was an enigma.

Impulsive, young, stubborn, sassy, irresponsible, daring and the most enticing human being he had ever met.

He replayed their conversation again and again and yet he still felt like there was more and more he could find.

The thing that surprised him the most and was most likely the reason he was so focused on the Boy Who Lived, was that he was nothing like Tom expected.

The boy was bratty, and yet Tom found his sense of humour not too different from his own. He believed what Dumbledore told him, but was also willing to listen to Tom’s ideas. He _thought_ before making the Vow.

He had pointed out and noticed things, even Tom himself hadn’t.

And he was _willing_ to cooperate.

From all he had heard and seen from those few moments they had spent fighting each other, he had believed Potter would be just another insufferable Gryffindor, just like Severus had said.

But the boy that he’d talked to this morning, was anything but. He was a Gryffindor, yes. But he also had a Slytherin way of thinking and Tom couldn’t help but try to figure out the puzzle piece that Harry Potter represented.

The boy was unpredictable. Pushing until he got all of the information he wanted, while also blurting out things without thinking about their results.

It was as if Potter didn’t _care_ if he died.

It was something Tom envied. He had never been able to come over his fear of dying and here Potter was, acting so recklessly and… not caring.

And to add to all of that, the boy didn’t even _know_ about his potential. He had _no _idea how strong he was. It was another thing that made his mind glued to the particular boy – the magic he had felt from Potter during the ritual, was way above average.

All he had heard from Severus was how useless the boy was and he had seen Potter’s grades – they were always staying average, the boy not exceeding in anything but Defence Against the Dark Arts.

And yet his magic thrummed with power Tom had only seen in a few individuals.

Harry Potter simply baffled him.

As did the boy’s upbringing. He had never felt angrier, then when he heard Potter talk about them.

And yet it made no sense. How could a wizard _that_ powerful, and of _that_ social standing, live with _Muggles?_

Magic-hating Muggles at that?

But he didn’t have to think about the answer too hard.

Dumbledore always liked to stash powerful kids into abusive families.

It had only made Tom hate the old man more.

And it _also_ made him realize, with a sense of horror, that he and Potter weren’t as different as he’d believed.

They really weren’t… he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad news.

He read over the prophecy again, his eyes stuck to that one tiny line, that nagged at him from the moment he’d heard it.

_But their beings are way beyond intertwined,_

Their beings being intertwined…

He still wasn’t sure what it meant. But with the mental connection, Potter had talked about, possibilities popped up in his head.

And he discarded each new theory as quickly as he brought it up. There was no way it could mean any of that, so it didn’t matter.

Potter wasn’t his Horcrux because that wasn’t possible and he also wasn’t his Soulmate. Because that would just be absurd.

Although…

He looked down on his hand and softly willed the cover charm away.

He hadn’t cared about his Mark once in the past 50 years. He had discarded every thought about it, pushed away all of the longing and decided it would bring nothing but trouble. He had convinced himself that it was too useless for him to care about it. Who was he, the Dark Lord, to care about such trivial things as _Soulmates?_

But as he re-absorbed his treasures and his soul became more and more whole, he started to think about it.

Think about _who_ it might be. Or if there was a possibility of getting to meet them.

He looked at the word and snorted in amusement. If this was Potter, then Fate must’ve had a great sense of humour.

In the messiest, scratchiest and the most _terrible_ hand-writing, Tom had ever seen, had been written one single word on his right forefinger.

_LIAR_

And really, he had to admit that would be something Potter would say to him. Even with that horrible hand-writing…

But no. That was absurd. It was non-sense.

He ran a finger over the Mark and it happily hummed. Stupid little thing.

He stood up and walked out of his office.

He should go to bed.

It had been a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoosh! Lots of feelings in this one, haha.  
Poor Harry... he deserves more :D  
Hm... was that Harry's Horcrux, or not? Well, what do I know...? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
Also, you all wanted Tom's POV, so here you have it beauty-pies! Anddd his Mark!  
If you go to the Philosopher's stone, you'll find it there. I really enjoyed seeing all of your suggestions, though :D  
Also... Tom... you're such a dumbass XD  
See you next time! Sorry for any mistakes!  
Sti


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE REACHED 1000 KUDOS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
Oh my dear, how did that happen just after 5 chapters? How?   
Ahhhh  
Thank you guys so much!   
Harry and Neville chat... and it seems like both of them got it rough :)  
Hope you'll enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry for any mistakes!  
Sti

Harry gritted his teeth as he pushed through the ever-enveloping crowd on Diagon Alley. He had pulled the hood of his jacket low over his face and it miraculously saved him from getting recognized.

At least so far.

He waded his way through the alley, wondering why in the seven Hells did so many people decide to come here today.

Then he saw a witch carrying school books and it occurred to him, that he was being an idiot. It was the 1st of August. The list of supplies got send yesterday. Of course, people were already buying things for school.

_Great choice of a day, really Potter,_ he thought to himself.

Anyways. He walked on, before reaching his destination.

Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was already swarming with people. Harry slowly walked towards the tables, craning his neck to look around. 

No, no, not there either… ah.

His lips smiled without his volition as he spotted a young, round-faced boy at one of the tables.

He grinned, now fully and walked towards him.

“Harry, hi!”

Neville Longbottom looked different. He still had the same round-ish face, same mop of brown hair and same kind smile.

(Harry often wondered why the boy didn’t go to Hufflepuff.)

But he was thinner. His cheeks were hollow, and he looked fatigued.

Like something has been slowly eating away at him.

Harry smiled and sat down opposite his friend. “Hi. How are you?”

The Gryffindor gave a small shrug. “Oh, you know, everything’s the same. It’s alright. What about you? You sounded a bit sad in your letter.”

Did he?

“What? Oh, no, I’m okay. Summer’s been… usual, I guess.”

_You know, expect for feeling lonely as hell, being unable to sleep and having panic attacks from my new Soulmate, whoooo._

They looked at each other for a while. Then Neville snorted. “So I guess both of our summer’s sucked, huh?”

Harry let out a startled laugh, feeling the tension dissipate. “You’d be right.”

“How nice,” he chuckled, “so you’ve been staying with your relatives?”

Harry intertwined his fingers. “Yeah… they’ve been mostly ignoring me.”

“Jeez, that sucks,”

“Eh, not really. It’s the better option with them… you’re with your Grandma, right?”

A sour look appeared on his face. “That sucks, dude… but yeah, I’m with Granny… yeah.”

“I thought you two were okay.”

“Oh yeah, we _were…_ but as I told you in my letter… she’s not very happy with my Mark…”

Harry cringed. “That’s… that’s not exactly nice. Why, though? You said it was complicated…?”

Neville shifted in his seat, unconsciously playing with the spoon in his already melting ice-cream. “I… well…”

Harry reached out, gently squeezing his hand. “Hey. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I almost had a heart attack when I saw mine, yours can’t be worse.”

Neville looked unsure, and Harry was ready to be okay with the boy deciding not to tell him. It was personal, after all.

But Neville ran a hand through his hair. “Just… promise you won’t hate me.”

_Dude, you don’t have an Avada Motherfucking Kedavra as your Mark, of course, I won’t…_

“Why would I? It’s not like you can control it.”

_Sadly._

Neville looked around and Harry couldn’t help but notice the huge bags under his eyes.

Somehow, knowing Harry wasn’t the only one having trouble with his Soulmate, made it better. That sounded a bit bad, but honestly… yeah.

And Harry hadn’t planned on telling _anyone_ about his Mark, but if Neville was struggling too, then he’d understand, right?

“My Mark didn’t appear.”

Harry gaped, abruptly cut off his thoughts by the boy’s words. “Wait, what?”

Neville gave him a sour smile. “My Mark didn’t appear. Nowhere. I don’t have it.”

Harry expected a lot of things but this was far away from it. He blinked, trying to make the words click in his head. “But that- “

“Yeah,” the brunet leaned on the table, looking completely miserable, “yeah, that means I don’t have a Soulmate, Harry. I’m Mark-less.”

Someone on their right stood up and left.

Harry could feel his mind reeling. This was terrible. Having someone you didn’t like for a Soulmate wasn’t the greatest but having _no one…_

He opened his mouth to say something and realized he didn’t know what. He made a face and looked onto the table. “That… Circe, that sucks.”

Neville laughed. “Yeah, yeah it does. Granny’s talking about disinheriting me.”

_Morgana, Neville…_

“Neville, that’s awful.”

“Yeah, I guess… I don’t blame her thought. I’m worthless. I’m useless at everything I do, I always were, so it makes sense I don’t deserve a Soulmate.”

Harry frowned. “Neville, no. Stop it, that’s not true at all!”

“But- “

“No, listen, that’s not true, alright? You’re not worthless. Or useless, Neville you’re good at a lot of things. Your Grandmother is terrible for telling you that.”

The herbologist didn’t look very convinced. “Well… still. I’m a mistake. I’ve got no Soulmate. You and I both know only useless people don’t get a Mark.”

Harry clenched his fists. “Yeah, that’s not true. There’s a lot of people like you and a lot of them were pretty successful.”

Neville snorted. “Like who?”

The Boy Who Lived pressed on. “Einstein, for one. Or Da Vinci. Or Hatshepsut. Or Jane Austen.”

Sadly, as Harry realized only after seeing Neville’s confused look, all of those people were muggles.

“Um… I’ve never heard about them.”

He sighed. “They’re muggles. But all of them were either really smart, successful or really well known in muggle history.”

“Well, okay… I guess… still… even if that’s true, this is _me_ we’re talking about. But… yeah, it just sucks. A lot.”

The green eyed teen let out a heavy sigh, sympathising with his friend. “You’re not as bad as you think. But I get you. That’s horrid.”

“Tell me about it, hey.”

“Also, your Grandmother’s terrible.”

Neville looked away, not saying anything. Harry saw him silently agreeing, but it seemed to hurt him deeply. Harry remembered when he himself had realized his relatives didn’t love him and how sad it had made him feel. He had already grown apathetic to it, but he understood how Neville must’ve been feeling at this moment.

“And here I thought we were going to have a nice, light chat,” Neville joked.

They both laughed, Harry happy the mood lightened up a bit.

“Wait until you hear about _my_ Mark.”

Neville lifted his eyebrows. “It can’t be worse than mine.”

“O,h you’d be surprised.”

Was he going to tell him?  
He was actually going to tell him.

Jeez.

Neville’s expression turned serious. “Are you for real?”

There it goes. “Yeah. But you have to promise not to hate me either.”

“Harry, I just told you I belong to the most despised 1% on Earth. You’re my friend, no matter what.”

_He really should’ve been a Hufflepuff._

Harry bit his lips. He knew many people _would_ hate him if they knew. He wasn’t 100% sure that Neville wouldn’t. But this boy was his friend. A friend who had just told him something very personal. A friend who wrote him during the summer.

Bitterness crawled into his throat and only strengthened his decision.

He carefully pushed his hair out of his forehead and leaned towards Neville.

The boy read the two words and Harry watched his brows furrow. Then his mouth opened in a small ‘o’.

“Oh… Harry… that’s… oh, Harry…”

The Boy Who Lived sighed and let his hair fall down. He made a face at the raw emotion on Neville’s face.

“That’s horrible.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah,”

“Your Soulmate will try to kill you?”

Oh. _Oh, Neville. You, innocent soul…_

“Neville… he already has.”

It took a moment, for him to understand Harry’s words. Then he visibly paled, slowly leaning back.

“You can’t mean…”

“Yes.”

“That’s… dear Merlin…”

Harry sighed once more. “Yes.”

“But-but _him?_ _Him?_ Harry, you don’t _deserve _that.” Neville looked scared.

Harry pushed his chin onto his hands. He glanced away, his eyes looking but not seeing.

_Was there anything that he deserved?_

“But why would… why would he try to kill you, if you’re his Soulmate?”

Harry didn’t know either. He simply hoped it was because Voldemort didn’t realize.

Neville was looking at him with searching eyes and the boy finally decided to look back. “I don’t know. I guess he’s just too insane to notice. Or care. Maybe he knows, but it doesn’t matter to him.”

Or… maybe it hadn’t until now. Voldemort was currently sane… so there was a possibility he might realize…

Harry rather pushed these thoughts away.

They scared him too much.

The other boy let out a gush of air. “Circe, Harry… That’s horrible.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, well, what can I do? Sometimes I wish I was in your position…”

“You know… I sort of get you… but at least you know _someone_ might love you.”

“Neville, he tried to murder me at multiple points in my life and tortured me for fun. I’d rather have no one. And really, you can at least choose. You’re not predestined to be with someone. You’re free to meet people and end up with someone you might honestly love. I… I have only two options. I’ll either get killed by my Soulmate, or I’ll be forced to kill _him._”

Because in the end, it was going to happen. No matter what they swore, the prophecy spoke clear. And one day it was going to happen.

The Longbottom heir contemplated Harry’s answer for a while. He looked deep in thoughts and Harry let him, trying not to focus on the hurt too much.

In the end, Neville ran a hand through his hair and said, “We’re both fucked, aren’t we?”

Harry laughed. “You’re right. We are.”

The other boy laughed as well and Merlin, having friends never felt better.

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” he asked, just to make sure.

Neville answered. “Harry, why would I? That would be awful of me.”

“Okay, okay… just making sure.” Harry crossed his arms, “Just so you know, I’m not going to tell anybody about you, either.”

“Thanks,” he smiled.

They sat there, just smiling for a while.

Then Neville motioned his head to the shop. “So, do you wanna get some Ice-cream, or…?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

They stood up, going to get some and Harry made sure the hood was still over his head. The boys started to talk about other things, mostly about how their summer’s been going and other things.

Neville told him about Trevor getting lost for 10 days, before Neville found him near a female toad. Also, apparently, Neville’s Birthday party ended up terrible, since most of his relatives left once they found out about the state of his Mark.

They walked through the Alley, looked through a few shops and continued chatting.

Reaching Flourish and Blotts, Neville suddenly asked. “So, are you going anywhere over the rest of the summer?”

Harry glanced at the Best-Seller section, trying to not sound as bitter as he felt when he answered. “Nothing interesting, if that’s what you’re asking. I would normally stay with Ron, but he decided not to answer any of my letters…”

Neville frowned. “Really? But why?”

He shrugged. “How am I to know? He hasn’t written a single word, since the end of the year.”

His disappointment must have shown because Neville put a comforting hand on his shoulders. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for it. He wouldn’t just abandon you for no reason.”

He looked into his friend’s kind and friendly face and let out a small laugh. “You really should’ve been a Hufflepuff, you know?”

Sadly, this had the opposite effect than was planned. Neville frowned, pulling away. Harry regretted what he said just as he saw the clear hurt in his eyes.

“Well, thanks…”

“Neville, wait, I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I…” he let out a sigh, “You’re just a really, _really_ great friend.”

Understanding widened the brunet’s eyes and he blushed. “Oh… well, in that case, thanks, Harry.”

Then he cocked his head. “Well, you’re going to stay with your relatives, then?”

Harry snorted. “I don’t think I could survive another month with them. I’m planning on leaving.”

“Yeah? Where will you go?”

Harry halted. That was the question, wasn’t it?

_Where was he going to go?_

“I… I’m still not sure. I might just stay in Leaky Cauldron.”

Neville bit his lips. “Well, you know, I could ask Granny, if you could stay with us. I’m sure it’d be fine…”

“Even with her being angry at you?”

Neville’s face darkened. “Oh… well, yeah, that might be an issue. But hey. I’ll ask. You can’t just stay on the streets.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Neville. It’s a kind offer. But I’ll figure it out, okay?”

His friend let out a sigh, but nodded. “Alright. But write to me if anything happens, okay?”

Harry nodded. “I will, I promise.

***

Harry walked back towards N°4, his happiness dissipating with each step he took.

He was only there to grab his stuff and go. Nothing more. Talking with Neville and thinking about it more, he realized he _really_ couldn’t stay in here.

He wanted out. He wanted to get away from these people. He wanted to shut the door and never come back.

And for the first time in his life, he could. He could grab his things and just… go.

Sure, he wasn’t an adult yet. But who cared? The only threat for him, has always been Voldemort and guess what? The man couldn’t hurt him anymore.

So really, was there even any other point in staying? Any other valid reason? He knew Hermione could come up with twenty…

But all of them seemed unimportant, now.

_But what if authorities find you? _They had in his 3rd year and allowed him to go.

_What if Death Eaters try to kill you? _Could happen, but it was probable Voldemort had already informed them of the change.

_What if you end up on the street?_ He had enough money to bide for himself.

So… yeah.

He pushed himself towards the house and quietly walked in.

To his immense relief, no one was around. Harry looked around the house and his shoulders _literally_ slumped with relief. Truly leaving, wasn’t the easiest – even in his situation – but if he had had to face the Dursleys as well…

The green eyed boy quickly went up and got his backpack. He pulled the loose wood from his floor and pulled out his most prized possessions – his Cloak of Invisibility, his wand and the Marauders Map. He placed all of those items in his bag, before reaching in for the last time, to check if he hadn’t left anything in.

Then his fingers hit a smooth surface. His hand halted.

How come he had completely forgotten about this?

His shaking hand slowly took out a small, black, leather-bound book. It felt too light in his hands and yet it felt exactly the same as when he had held it for the first time.

He had been so foolish. So, _so_ foolish for keeping it, but he had. Like the stupid 12-year-old, he had been.

It had been sitting there, under his bed, for _years. _And he kept it. Slowly forgetting about it, and leaving it in there.

_Now_… it felt almost ironical.

_Of course, I kept it,_ he chuckled to himself, _I loved him too much._

He traced his fingers over the diary, unsure what he should feel. For one, he knew very well what the… the piece of Voldemort inside, had done to him. For two, he himself had destroyed it. And for three, he didn’t want to let it go.

Ah, he was a mess. A big, tangled up mess of too many feelings and too many opinions and too many thoughts all bundled into a tiny ball that refused to untangle.

This was one of the objects Voldemort talked about. The same one, that had attempted to _murder_ him when he was 12.

This was completely and utterly _worthless_ now, being both literally and figuratively destroyed.

He should return it to Voldemort. He should go and give it back and say, ‘Hey, look what I just found, bye!’ and leave.

He shouldn’t have any attachments to this stupid book.

He put it inside his backpack.

He swung it over his shoulders. He refused to think about it.

Hedwig was home, sleeping on her perch and he walked over. Softly caressing her feathers, He watched her big eyes open and blink at him.

“Hey, girl,” he cooed, “we’re leaving.”

She stared at him.

He sighed, letting his hand fall down. “Don’t be sassy.”

She continued to stare. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I should have left a long time ago, yes. Happy?”

She hooted, looking unnaturally smug for an owl.

Harry smiled despite himself. “Go to Leaky Cauldron. I’ll meet you there.”

His owl ruffled her feathers and once he opened the window, she flew out.

Harry picked up her cage along with his belongings and went down.

He stopped before the cupboard under the stairs. His uncle had locked his stuff in at the start of the summer.

Not all, of course. Harry had taken his most valued stuff up, and they were currently sitting in his backpack, but his truck, filled with school robes and books and his broom were all locked in.

_Well… good thing, Fred and George taught me how to pick locks._

He went to the bathroom, found one of aunt Petunia’s pins and unlocked the heavy padlock. The twins had taught him how to do this, the summer before his 2nd year. He had seen them do it in here and immediately wanted to learn.

And, well, those two could never resist spreading mischief, so they happily showed him how.

He opened the door and stilled. Being faced with the room he used to sleep in, brought back some memories. Ones he wished he could forget.

But of course, the world didn’t work that way. It never has.

Looking at it now, knowing he was saying goodbye… it felt freeing. It felt _good._

He looked at the tiny space and wondered how he’d ever managed to fit in there. Sleep there.

He used to hate it, and yet it also used to be his safe space. How fucked up even was that?

The wizard sneered. He took his stuff and closed the door shut.

He never wanted to see it again.

And he was never going to. Never.

With that, he walked out of the door. He looked around, before pulling out his wand and waving it, calling the Knight Bus.

It was the quickest way to get to the Leaky Cauldron, albeit a bit uncomfortable.

He didn’t have to wait long. Before he knew it a flash of blue entered his vision and he found the oddly shaped bus in front of him.

Stan Shunpike looked surprised to see him, but Harry didn’t give him the chance to say anything. He gave him his things, and stepped in, not even looking at the house. He just needed to go away. As fast as he could.

He found a seat and sat down, holding tightly to the seat before him.

Great. Now he was simply going to book a room in Leaky Cauldron, check the state of his vaults and see what to do next…

Or, so he thought, before someone sat right next to him.

“Hi, kiddo,”

Harry turned around and couldn’t believe his eyes.

Right next to him, sat Barty Crouch Jr.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me some time...  
but I hope you'll be as excited about this chapter as I am!   
Barty's here and so are some... interesting facts :D  
Sorry for any mistakes and I hope you'll like it :)  
Sti

Harry almost fell from his seat.

“Barty!” He let out a strangled yell.

_How did the man get here?_

The Death Eater made a face and looked around. “Jeez, kid, try to keep it quiet. I’m still a convict.”

Harry blinked. _Oh, right._

He blushed, looking around as well.

The bus was almost empty, except for some old wizard in the back and a lady with her young daughter. None of them seemed to pay attention to them, though.

The brunet shot him a smile. Harry could only stare.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Then another thought struck him. “Did you stalk me?”

Barty put his hands up. “Hey, slow down. I’m not a stalker. Well, okay, I did watch you go in and then leave the house, which probably _is _stalking, but that’s beside the point.”

Harry gave him his best-unimpressed stare. He didn’t exactly mind Barty around here, but the man better gave him an explanation.

“Yeah, okay. Look, I just came here to tell you it’s not _me_ who you should be worrying about stalking you.”

“What? What do you mean, stalking me? _Who’s_ stalking me?”

The bus took an extremely sharp turn and Harry almost smashed his face into the window. Barty steadied himself and finally got to explain.

“When you left, yesterday, my, well, you know, my _boss, _realized the Order might freak out once they realized the Prophecy was missing. So I came to look around… and found exactly what I thought I’d find. You had Aurors around your house.”

Harry blanched. _Aurors? Around Private Drive? _

Why?

And who the hell was the Order that they kept talking about?

He ignored the way Barty spoke about Voldemort, although he did find it a bit funny. Well, need to keep things safe, he assumed…

“Hey, slow down. First of all, who’s the Order? Second, why would they stalk me? And third, how am I to even trust you?”

Barty blinked at him, obviously startled. It made Harry feel a bit better. On one hand, he truly couldn’t trust Barty, on the other the thought of someone watching over his house made him anxious. It was unsettling. Why would anyone watch him?

They took yet another crazy turn. Barty made a face and answered. “You _do_ have a point. But I swear, I’m not lying. I can show you my memories if you’d like.”

Harry blinked. “Your memories? You have a Pensieve?”

His previous teacher laughed. “Nah. But we won’t need it. Ever heard of Legilimency?”

The teen scrunched his eyebrows. “Um… no?”

Barty sighed. He looked exasperated. “You never even heard of that? Or about the Order?”

Harry glared at him. “Yeah. I hadn’t. So what?”

Something passed through Barty’s eyes. Almost like… worry? He looked troubled. It confused the boy quite a lot.

Then the look passed. “Ok, short version: Legilimency is mind reading. There’s also Occlumency, which is used to protect your mind against Legilimency. So that no one _does_ read your mind. But I can transfer my memories in your head, through it.”

Harry’s eyebrows crawled up. “Are you trying to tell me, there are wizards who could read my mind?”

“Well, yes. That’s why it’s a bit worrying you didn’t know about it.”

Harry gulped. Oh. Okay. Okay, right. Some people could read his mind. And nobody had ever told him. Great.

“Can Voldemort do that?”

Barty flinched, one hand immediately grabbing his forearm. “Merlin, Potter.”

Harry growled, ignoring the flinch. “Well can he? Has he been reading my thoughts the whole time I was there?”

Because if he _had_, he could already _know_ and that…

“He’s a skilled Legilimens. But as far as I know, you’d feel it if he tried. I mean… you resisted _Imperius._ It means your mental barriers are high already.”

Harry bit his lips. “Are you sure?”

He hated how unsure his voice sounded. But Barty only smiled. “Yeah, kid. I’m sure.”

_Oh, thank Merlin._

He ran a hand through his hair, relief spreading through him. “Who else can do it? Like, is it a common thing to be a Legili-whatever, or…?”

Barty shrugged. “Well, it’s a pretty difficult piece of magic, so rest assured. It’s mostly the powerful witches and wizards, who have any skills in it. I know Dumbledore’s a good Legilimens… Snape’s got just about the best Occlumency walls you could find, that sneaky snitch… and obviously, the Unspeakables. I can do it… yeah.”

Harry frowned. “Dumbledore’s a Legilimens?”

“More reasons not to trust him, huh?” Barty smirked.

Harry… just blinked a couple of times. Dumbledore could read minds. It would explain quite a lot but… it unsettled him.

But, right. “Okay, yeah, Legilimency. And the Order?”

Barty snorted. “Ah yes. The Order of Phoenix. Or as I like to call them, the Order of Headless Chickens. It’s basically Dumbledore’s version of the Death Eaters. A close circle of his people who fought against us in the first war. It seems they’re regrouping again. And I do believe your parents were in it.”

Harry took the new information in, as they swerved through Surrey.

Dumbledore led an organisation. That his _parents_ fought in. And he’d never heard of it.

Yes, alright, he hasn’t heard about plenty of things. It… probably _was_ his fault. Still, learning there was a completely new player on the scene…

Barty tapped his fingers on the seat, not slightly unnerved by the constant jerking.

Harry decided not to get miffed by it. “Ok… so you think _Dumbledore_ has his people outside my _house_ to stalk me? That makes zero sense. Dumbledore wouldn’t do that…”

_Or would he?_

Barty lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll show you the memory if you don’t believe me.”

Harry frowned at him. Then nodded. “Okay, how?”

The Death Eater took his hand – which was slightly off-putting – and looked straight into Harry’s eyes. “Alright. Just focus on me. And don’t fight it, when it comes.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue when something _pushed_ into his mind and the world changed colours.

***

_He was hiding behind a tree, trying to stay as quiet as possible. A white, blocky house with a neat porch stood right ahead of him and Harry realized he was watching the Dursley’s house. _

_He looked down at himself and found a set of brown robes that weren’t his. He shifted in his position, getting closer to something and it suddenly occurred to Harry, that he wasn’t watching this from an outsider’s perspective. _

_He was watching it from Barty’s._

_Just like in his visions from Voldemort, he was looking at the world through Barty’s eyes. Wasn’t that just creepy?_

_ <strike>He</strike> _ _ Barty moved closer to the left, closer to a string of bushes and Harry finally saw what the Death Eater was observing. _

_Two people were hiding in the bushes near N°5. Both of them wore grey and brown robes, being almost invisible if no one looked too closely in their direction. One of them even had green hair, to go along with it. _

_Harry had never seen them before, but they were staring right at N°4. And they were talking about him. _

_“Maybe we _should’ve_ gone after him. He’s been gone for like 3 hours already.” Said the green-haired one._

_The other one – a man - huffed. “I told you already, we sent a word to Dumbledore, there’s not much more we can do. Potter’s not going to go anywhere else than Diagon if he took the Knight Bus.”_

_The girl made an annoyed sound. “Well, yeah, but we’re sitting ducks out here, Dedalus. We could be doing something else than watching over a teenage boy.”_

_Dedalus rolled his eyes. “We could, but there’s Death Eaters everywhere if you haven’t noticed. We need to keep him safe, Tonks.”_

_‘Tonks’ let out a whine. “I know, but c’mon, why can’t we just move him to the HQs and be done wi- oh, look, there he comes.”_

_And there he was. Hopping out of the Knight Bus, Harry himself walked towards the house. _

_Seeing himself was… super fucking weird. He looked completely different than how he imagined he’d look like. And seeing _himself_ was just… odd._

_The two Aurors watched him slip inside the house._

_Then Dedalus spoke. “See, he’s fine.”_

_Tonks grumbled, but let it be. They all watched the house for a moment, the Dedalus and Tonks making small talk when Harry walked out of the door once more. _

_“Are those – are those bags? He’s leaving.”_

_Tonks narrowed her eyes. “But where? You know the Weasleys are at the HQs.”_

_Dedalus ignored her statement, pulling out his wand. “We need to inform Dumbledore, about this…”_

_The rest of their conversation remain unknown to Harry, as Barty silently ran to the bus. He slipped in right after Harry, without being seen by the Aurors and sat down next to him with a smile and ‘Hi, kiddo.”_

_Harry turned to him as the memory ended._

_***_

The Boy Who Lived shook his head as he found himself sitting back in the bus.

Barty was observing him, a careful look in his eyes.

The bus made another sharp turn.

And Harry… Harry didn’t know what to make of it.

There were people. Outside his house. Watching his every move and _reporting it to Dumbledore._

Why would his _Headmaster_ do that? Why would he send _patrols_ outside his house? That… that…

The bus suddenly stopped, making Harry barrel into the seat before him with an ‘ouch’. Barty laughed at him and helped him up. Harry looked outside and quickly got his things, as he saw they’ve just stopped before the Leaky Cauldron.

Nice.

They walked out, Harry feeling numb.

Barty was still watching him – obviously waiting for some kind of reaction. Harry simply replayed the scene again and again in his head.

In the end, he asked. “Why would Dumbledore send his people to stalk me?”

Now, there could’ve been a lot of explanations. As the man in Barty’s memory said – there were Death Eaters around. How ironic he was currently speaking to one…

But… but sending people to stalk him? Doing that to ‘protect’ him, but letting him stay in an unguarded area when they had Headquarters? And _Weasleys,_ his _friends_, were there? While _he_ stayed in _that_ house?

He looked at the Death Eater. How messed up did his life get that he was looking for answers from a convicted man who had tried to murder him?

But Barty looked… sad, almost_. Like he actually gave a fuck._

“You’re not going to like the answer to that. And I think you know already. You ask the Order and they’d all swear they were trying to protect you. And I’m certain that in some sense, the old man believes that. But…” he trailed off.

“But?”

“Well, Dumbledore always liked to control the people around him. And you’re his saviour. The Golden Boy. Of course, he wants to keep his eyes on you.”

Harry growled. “Dumbledore wouldn’t _do_ that.”

Barty barked out laughing, bitterness dripping from his words, “Oh, _really_? Why don’t you ask your Godfather? I’m sure Black will tell you how lovely it was back in Hogwarts. Not for the Gryffindors, of course, Morgana, _no, _Dumbledore wouldn’t hurt his precious little soldiers. But ask anyone in Slytherin, especially before the 1st war and maybe you’ll see why most of them joined the Dark Lord.”

Harry blanched.

Right.

Barty stood there, fire in his eyes. Harry saw glimpses of craziness shining through his expression. It was clear he held deep hatred for the man. Harry hadn’t expected him to lash out like that, though.

He crossed his arms. “Okay. You hate him. I get it.”

The fire in Barty’s eyes slowly dimmed, until he crossed his arms as well and heaved a deep sigh.

“Yeah. I fucking do.” He snorted.

Harry glared. “Alright, well, I don’t.”

The Death Eater finally calmed down, managing to look a tiny bit ashamed. He rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I lashed out. Sorry about that. But I meant it, you know? Dumbledore will do anything to ensure things go his way.”

He looked away. “Maybe… but I still don’t believe he’d try to control me like that.”

“He _did _send people outside your house.

Harry opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Then he opened it again.

He… but that… that…

Harry could argue all he wanted. But Barty was right. Dumbledore sent his people to watch him and report back to him.

_Why would he do that?_

“I…” a lump appeared in his throat, “I just… I didn’t think he’d…”

Barty sighed and gently patted his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I get it. It’s insane. Circe, I just didn’t think he’d do this to one of his own…”

Harry gulped. “I, um… thanks for telling me, Barty. It means quite a lot.”

The Death Eater grinned. “No probs.”

Pushing Dumbledore and everything else aside, Harry looked at the man and a new idea popped up in his head. “So… you didn’t just come to tell me they were stalking me, did you?”

Barty pulled a face. “Weeelll… yeah, okay, I didn’t. I wanted to offer you to stay with us. It gets pretty lonely in there.”

Harry took a step back in shock. “You want me to live with _Voldemort?_ Are you nuts?”

Barty hissed, quickly clutching his forearm. “Don’t say his name, dammit.”

The teen narrowed his eyes, remembering the same thing from the bus. “Your Mark reacts when I say Voldemort?”

“Ouch,” the man gave him a dirty look, “You did that on purpose didn’t you?”

Harry smiled. “Voldemort.”

Barty glared at him.

Harry laughed. “Yeah, okay, okay, I’ll stop. Why does it do that, though?”

The brunet sighed. “I don’t get how you’re _not_ in Slytherin… Look, he linked us all together. It burns when he calls us to him. And if someone says his name, it reacts so _we_ don’t dare to say it. It’s not a problem. Usually.” He added with a pointed glare.

Harry only smiled.

Barty gave him a very resigned look, but Harry could see his lips twitching up in a smile. “Anyways. I guess you’re planning on staying at the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

He sighed. “Nothing. It’s just the most obvious choice. It’s the first place the Order will look. So if you don’t necessarily _want_ to get found by them… and dragged back to the Muggles…”

That – Oh_. Oh._

Fuck.

Harry was a bloody idiot.

“Okay, you got a point,” he admitted, “still, better them than Vol-_okay_, You-know-who. He might not kill me, but _no_ thanks.”

“Aw, c’mon. _All_ of my friends are either dead or in prison. You’re like the only one I can talk to.”

Harry snorted. “Well, nice to hear, but still. The man gave me enough trauma for life. I don’t need more of it.”

Barty sighed but conceded. “Eh. Oh, well. The offer still stands, though, if you’d want.”

He smiled. On one hand, spending his summer close to Voldemort freaked him out. On the other, though, it was nice to hear someone wanted to spend time with him.

He had no idea how it happened, but here he was, casually chatting with a Death Eater. What his life became, he didn’t know.

He looked at the Muggles passing by. Then at the shady door to Leaky Cauldron.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal.”

“Oh?”

“If they drag me back to Dursleys, I’m taking you up the offer.”

It’s not like he’d have any other choice, by then.

Barty’s whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? Yes!”

Harry grinned. “Deal, then,” he looked back at the door.

Barty nodded. Then his face clouded once more. “Alright, do what you want… but are you sure Leaky Cauldron is the best option?”

“I’ve already stayed there once in my 3rd year. I’ll be alright.”

“Will you, though? With how the wizarding world sees you, right now?”

Harry frowned. _With how the wizarding world saw him? _“What do you mean?”

“You don’t read the newspapers?”

“I haven’t since I left Hogwarts.”

Understanding passed through Barty’s eyes. “Ahh… they hate you.”

At Harry’s confused look, he continued.

“They think you’re a liar. Fudge refuses to believe the Dark Lord is back, so he’s very adamant about making you out as a fraud. They’ve been slandering you in the papers the whole summer.”

“But I only said the truth.”

“Yes. But Fudge’s a coward. And it’s easier to believe you’re an attention-seeking brat, instead of believing their worst enemy is back.” Then he shrugged, “I’m not complaining. It’s easier for us.”

Harry scoffed. “So they think Cedric just went and died? For no reason?”

Barty made a face.

The Boy Who Lived pinched the bridge of his nose. Great. Awesome. They thought he was a liar. Again.

Just great.

“They’ve been calling me a liar in the newspaper the _whole _summer?

“Yep. You and Dumbledore both.” Barty said.

Harry frowned. “Why Dumbledore?”

“Well, he agrees with you. And Fudge’s scared Dumbledore might take his position as the Minister. You and him are claiming the Dark Lord is back and it seems you’re both fools.” He shrugged again.

Harry could feel his blood boiling. Great. Motherfucking great.

“Fucking cowards.” He uttered.

The man barked out a laugh. “I’m afraid they’ll never change. Just ignore them. Say you’ve lied. They’ll turn all of their hate towards Dumbledore and you’ll be fine.”

Harry face-palmed.

Barty pretended to look offended. Then he looked down at his watch and cursed.

“Sorry, kiddo. Seems like I’ll have to be going. But hey, as I’ve said, just ignore them.”

The teen nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Barty.”

The Death Eater nodded. “I’m glad we could chat. Write to me sometimes.”

“I will if I get _too_ bored.”

Barty laughed, before pulling out his wand. “Bye,”

Harry gave him a wave and watched as the man disappeared on the spot.

Alright.

That was a lot to take in.

Circe, he hoped Barty’s memories were false. He hated the idea of having been tracked. And Barty could’ve staged it, to convince him to join the Dark side…

Or maybe he was actually telling the truth.

Sigh.

_Well,_ he reasoned as he stepped into the pub,_ I won’t know for sure until they come for me._

He closed the door behind him. And came face to face with Alastor Moody.

“Potter. There you are.” He said gruffly.

Harry noticed the group of Aurors behind him and mentally swore.

He was fucked. He was severely and utterly _fucked._


	8. Chapter 8

Running suddenly seemed like a great option.

Harry half-turned, his whole body ready to spree.

They found him.

They found him just like Barty said they would, just like he mocked him for not expecting.

Harry knew they would. He just didn’t think it’d be so soon.

His eyes scrambled from the group of adults in search of the nearest escape route.

If he ran back into the muggle world, maybe they’d get lost and –

“C’mon then.” Alastor Moody grunted out, “We don’t have the whole day.”

Harry took a step back for real. “No way. I don’t even know you.”

He truly didn’t. Some of them wore Auror robes like Moody, others wore simple robes. After seeing the green-haired Tonks and Dedalus with them, it wasn’t hard to guess they were from the Order.

But that didn’t change the fact that he has never seen any of them before.

His panic must have shown, because as Moody’s face twisted in annoyance, the group parted, letting a familiar figure step out.

“Harry, it’s okay,” a scarred man said, “you can trust us.”

And Harry halted.

“Professor Lupin?”

His old teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts smiled. “I’m no longer your professor, Harry. Please, call me Remus.”

Harry noted he somehow managed to look even more battered than the last time Harry had seen him. Dark bags under his eyes, clothes even scruffier than Harry thought to be possible and new scars lining his face and yet through all of that, Remus Lupin still looked like the kindest man on the planet.

Some of the boy’s tension disappeared. “What-what are you doing here?”

“We came to get you to safety.”

Harry looked at the wizards behind him. _Safety? Really? _

As the previous panic subsided, Harry felt himself getting angry. He couldn’t even go anywhere without them going for him.

Great.

He reminded himself that he couldn’t show he knew they had been stalking him. Despite that, he couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice.

“How did you know I was here?”

It was a good question. And it caught all of them off guard. The wizards avoided his eyes. Tonks at least looked somewhat guilty.

Professor Lupin – no, Remus, - blinked. Then he scratched the back of his neck. “Harry, we… we heard you ran away. So we came to get you. It’s not safe for you to wander around here, not with You-Know-Who’s return.”

_They _heard_. Right. No, they stalked him._

He could demand answers. He could call them out… But if it hadn’t been for his talk with Barty, he would have trusted them. And this was _Remus Lupin_, for Morgana’s sake!

He shifted in his stand, only now noticing the huge commotion they’ve made. It seemed like everyone in the pub was watching them.

He relented. “You’re not sending me back to Dursleys, right?”

The werewolf quickly shook his head. “No, don’t worry. We have a safe house. Um…” he lowered his voice, “Padfoot’s over there.”

Harry’s heart started to beat faster. Padfoot? _Sirius?_ He could stay with Sirius?

He was disgruntled from how they ambushed him, but he could shake it off. They _were_ trying to protect him, although in a pretty weird way.

In the end, he nodded. “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

A collective sigh of relief passed through the group. Remus gave him a warm smile.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

Moody let out something that sounded very close to ‘finally’ and the group headed to the backdoor of Leaky Cauldron.

Harry followed, letting out a single sigh.

_Oh well. At least he’d get to know what’s going on._

***

Apparation apparently didn’t get much better since the last time he tried it.

Unlike Barty, however, Remus seemed ready to catch him as Harry lost his balance. He didn’t throw up, but he was certainly close to it.

Remus put him back on his feet and Harry mumbled a sheepish ‘thanks’ before looking around.

They were standing in a small square. Houses lined the place in an ellipse, surrounding a water fountain and a bunch of trees. They appeared under one of them, hiding in its shadow, standing right in front of houses 11 and 13. N°12 must have disappeared somewhere when they built these houses.

Harry looked at them and only felt his confusion grow. “Where are we?”

Instead of giving him an answer, Moody shuffled over and handed him a small piece of paper with a growl. “Read it and memorize it.”

_How friendly…_

Harry looked down at the paper. Then he took it, slowly letting his eyes skim over it. On it stood only two words written in neat loopy handwriting that Harry immediately recognized as Dumbledore’s:

12 Grimmauld Place

12, huh? But hadn’t Harry noticed, just about a moment ago, that there _wasn’t _any number 12?

He opened his mouth to ask when the paper decided to combust in his hands. He yelped and dropped it.

Huh.

He finally looked up. Most of the wizards were already walking towards numbers 11 and 13… but wait. Not those two. They were walking towards number 12. Which has just materialized between them.

“How the…”

Remus smiled. “Magic. It’s under a spell called Fidelius. No one but those with the knowledge of this house can see it. Come on.”

Harry took it in, staring at the new building. It looked like if it had always been there. And yet he was _sure_ it hadn’t been before he read the paper.

That must have been a powerful piece of magic. No wonder they made this into their Headquarters.

Remus waved at him to go and he quickly caught up with them as they entered the house. His old professor held the door for him and Harry stepped in.

The first thing he noticed, was how gloomy the house looked. The hallway was dark, dusty and unfriendly. Harry slowly followed the wizard before him, feeling uneasiness creep in as he noticed the shrivelled heads of House Elves lining the wall.

_What a lovely place…_

No one said anything as they walked through the narrow passage, so Harry kept his questions for later. He was surprised to see Moody harshly tugging the green-haired Tonks to the side just as they passed what looked like the foot of Big Foot and for some unexplainable reason held a couple of umbrellas.

He saw the others sigh and Tonks give the scarred Auror a sheepish smile.

Okay… what?

He didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, as they finally reached a closed door at the end and walked in.

The silence seemed to break just as Remus closed the door behind them. The wizards spread around, talking and chatting.

Harry stopped, recognizing the new room as a dining room. Warm lights lit the room, giving it a welcoming glow so unlike the previous hall, it looked like a different building. Some wizards he didn’t know started chatting with the new arrivals.

Harry slowly put his truck on the ground. He was beyond confused, but as his eyes travelled across the room, he finally – _finally –_ spotted a familiar person.

Chatting with someone on the threshold, half-turned away, stood none other than Sirius Black.

“Sirius!” Harry exclaimed.

His Godfather turned around, face splitting into a huge grin as he saw him. “Harry!”

The teen wasted no time running to him and tackling him, hugging him as tight as he could.

Sirius laughed. “Nice to see you too, kid.”

Harry beamed so hard his face started to hurt. Reluctantly, he pulled away, properly looking at the man for the first time, since he came.

“You look better,” he noted.

Sirius looked down at his clothes and shrugged. “I guess having a place to stay does wonders to you.”

It did. Gone was the sick haunted look Harry had been used to seeing in his eyes. Gone were the hollowed cheeks, hanging clothes or the pale sick shade of his skin.

For the first time that Harry had seen him, the man looked _healthy._ His cheeks were full, his skin spotting a healthy blush and his clothes actually fit for once.

Harry couldn’t be happier.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

The man’s smile softened. “Me too, Harry. Me too. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m – I’m fine. Everything’s been going well. What about you?”

He hoped he sounded convincing.

“That’s good, Harry. I’m as fine as I can be in this place, hah.”

“Good to hear.” He nodded, “But I’m so confused. What even is this place? Why were we all so quiet in the hall? Who even _are_ the people who brought me here?”

Sirius laid a hand on his shoulders. “You’ll get your answers. Don’t worry. This house belongs to the House of Black. I grew up here, so now it’s mine. It’s a hell hole, really, but it works and it’s safe.”

Harry nodded, remembering the hiding spell. He filed the information for later. “What about the hallway? Is it cursed?”

Sirius barked out laughing and Harry heard Remus chuckle as well. “You could say that. Nah, it’s not, but my mother’s portrait is in the hallway, and trust me, you don’t want to wake her up.”

Harry lifted his eyebrows. “Your mother? Really?”

“Yes. She’s an old hag.”

“You shouldn’t speak about your mother that way – Oh, Harry!” a warm voice interrupted them.

Harry looked past his now-disgruntled Godfather to see Mrs Weasley coming over to them with a welcoming smile.

His lips went up. “Mrs Weasley. I didn’t know you were here.”

The small women hugged him and Harry pushed off the string of thoughts, pointing out that – yeah, the Weasleys were here.

Unlike him.

(Stop it)

Sirius made an affronted sound. “I can disrespect her however I want. You hate her just as much as I do, Molly.”

The woman ignored him in favour of giving Harry a glance-over.

“Dear, look at you, you’re thin as a stick! You need to eat a lot more.”

_I would, if my relatives gave me any food..._

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Mrs. Weasley continued gushing over him and Harry looked at Sirius. They shared an amused look.

Alright, alright. It _was_ good to be here.

“You should go get your things up into your room. You’re with Ron, as always.” She said.

Harry looked back to where he’d left his trunk. “Oh, okay. Yeah. Um…”

He looked around a bit hopelessly, realizing he had no idea where to go.

Sirius let out his dog laugh and clapped him on the shoulder, before heading to the door. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Oh. “Thanks!”

He said bye to Mrs. Weasley and quickly followed the ex-convict. Sirius picked up Harry’s trunk and the teen looked around the room for the first time since coming in.

Most of the wizards had either left or sat down at a long table in the middle of the room. He saw Remus chatting with the Tonks girl, the two of them laughing about something.

Then Sirius led him out of the kitchen and the door shut close, leaving them in startling silence.

Compared to the kitchen, the hallway seemed like from a different world. Shrouded in darkness and eerie-looking, stairs crept up on their right side. On the left was the narrow never-ending corridor, shrivelled heads of House-Elves staring at them and looking just as off-putting as when he came in.

Remembering that he shouldn’t talk, he mutely pointed to them and lifted his eyebrows. Sirius scrunched his nose, before waving his hand to indicate he should let it be.

Then he went up the stairs. Harry was surprised the stairs didn’t creak with every step, but he knew magic could do wonders. He looked back at the heads, before following.

They got to the first floor, passed a wall covered with a black duvet and were already halfway up the second set of stairs, when someone walked out of the kitchen.

Harry looked down to see Tonks and Remus coming out. They walked to the hallway and Harry just turned away when –

** _CRASH_ **

\- There was a tense moment, everything seeming to freeze. Harry turned to see the troll umbrella holder laying on the ground, Tonks’ hair turning flaming red in matters of seconds and her eyes widening in horror -

Then the duvet parted, and the house was filled with ear-piercing screeching. Harry clasped his ears, backing off as far as he could. Just about the ugliest woman Harry has ever seen stood in the portrait. Her face was blotchy with rage as she shouted.

**“DIRTY MUDBLOODS IN MY HOUSE! STAINING THIS HOUSE! FILTHY DISGUSTING MUDBLO- “**

Sirius jumped to the portrait throwing the duvet over it. “Shut up, you hag! Shut UP!”

His mother raged on.

Putting the thing back on wasn't as easy as it seemed. Harry went to help, but Remus beat him to it.

The whole commotion took a bit more effort and some people to come look what was happening, before they finally managed to shut Sirius’ mother up.

The sudden silence seemed even odder.

Tonks came up to them. She immediately started to apologize in hushed tone. “I really didn’t mean to, I swear. I’m sorry for causing that.”

They moved farther away from the portrait and Remus gave her a teasing smiled. “We know why we’ve been pulling you away from it.”

It came to Harry then, as he remembered the scene back when they had come in. He’d seen Moody pull the girl away, but he couldn’t understand why. Now it seemed to make more sense.

Tonks huffed, her cheeks reddening. “It’s not my fault I keep falling over things.”

And her hair changed again, now to light pink.

Harry blinked. “How did you do that?”

“Oh, this?” she took a strand of her hair and grinned at him, “I’m a Metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will. I was born one.” Then she stuck out her hand for him, “I’m Tonks, by the way.”

He had never heard of that. It would explain why her hair had been green in the first place, however.

He already knew her name and was sure she knew his, but shook her hand anyway. “Harry. That sounds pretty cool. Can you change into someone else?”

She sent him a grin so mischievous, Harry felt like he was looking at one of the Weasley twins and changed… into Sirius.

She puffed out her chest a grinned from ear to ear. Her abilities were so great that if Harry hadn’t seen her change, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish them.

Sirius facepalmed. “Lovely, cousin, lovely.” But Harry could see his lips twitching.

“You are cousins?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Sirius explained, “Nymphadora is my uncle’s granddaughter.”

Before Harry could begin to understand how that worked, the girl stomped her foot. “Don’t call me Nymphadora. You know I hate it.”

Sirius grinned. “Exactly.”

She glared at him and Harry decided to intervene before something went wrong.

“You look exactly the same. That’s pretty awesome.”

Tonks turned to him, suddenly looking very pleased with herself. “Ah, thanks. It’s just a shame I can’t get the eyes, right. You can never change those...”

And yes, her eyes were still brown, unlike Sirius’ cloudy greys. But apart from that… wow.

She changed back into herself, pink hair and all.

Harry had no idea what to think of her. Looking at her up close made him realize she was much younger than he thought. She couldn’t have been much older than him – maybe 6 or 7 years.

She had been one of the people who stalked him. She had stood outside his house and reported him back to the Order.

But Remus trusted her. And so did Sirius – they were related. Joking with each other like old friends.

And frankly, she sounded okay. More than that, actually.

“Well, I need to go. Nice meeting you. I’ll try not to fall over anything else.” She gave them a nervous smile.

“I should be going as well. Harry, it was lovely to see you again. Take care.”

The boy was sad to see his previous professor go, but nodded, shaking his hand.

They exchanged ‘byes’ and the two of them left.

“Well then,” Sirius coughed as he picked Harry’s things again, “let’s head up. Your room is on the 2nd floor.”

Harry nodded and they quietly walked around the portrait. Once they reached the second stairwell, Sirius started talking again, describing the layout of the house.

“There’s a sitting room on the 1st floor, but no one goes there, since it’s completely cluttered. You and Ron are staying on the 2nd floor and my room is up on the 4th. So if you’d ever like to come, you can.”

Harry felt his lips go up and he was sure he looked like a fool with how much he was grinning, but he couldn’t help it.

Sirius was _here_. He was going to live with him.

This was the best thing that ever happened!

They got up and he followed Sirius to a door on the left side. His Godfather motioned for him to go in.

And Harry suddenly felt nervous. He knew he shouldn’t – there was nothing to fear. Just Ron.

But what if the reason why Ron hadn’t written to him, was that he didn’t _want to?_

Thinking about that; why hadn’t _Sirius_?

He saw the kind look in the man’s eyes and decided it might be better not to ask.

Then he took all the courage he had and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” someone shouted.

And so Harry did.

The first thing he saw was the warm golden glow coating the room.

The second was a flash of hair before he got tackled into a tight hug.

“Harry!” Came two voices at the same time.

The boy let out a strangled sound.

“Ugh,” he awkwardly hugged his friend back, “nice to see you too, Hermione.”

He heard chuckling and he didn’t have to look (he couldn’t) to know it was Sirius.

“Let him breathe, ‘Mione,” Ron chimed in.

Hermione thankfully did and Harry could breathe again.

“Oh, Harry! We missed you so much!”

Ron came closer, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, dude, thank Merlin you’re here.”

He looked at them. Neither of them have changed much – except maybe Hermione’s hair seemed to lay flat. Just a tiny bit. Ron was lanky and freckled as always. They both beamed at him.

If they missed him that much, then why hadn’t they written to him?

“Well I think I’d leave you to this. Come down for dinner,” Sirius spoke from the threshold, before walking away.

The door close behind them and Harry… well Harry looked back at their grins, at how _happy_ they both were and how _excited_ they were to see him and that they were here _together,_ _both _of them and he… well, he snapped.

“You missed me, really?”

Ron frowned. Hermione’s face flooded with guilt.

“Harry, we- “

“No letters. Not even _one._ Not even a lousy Birthday card.”

“Harry, we wanted to, but- “

“I wrote you almost every day!_ Every_ day and you didn’t bother to send me _anything_. Do you even realize how _lonely_ I was?”

Hermione wrung her hands. It somehow made him angrier.

“I was at the Dursleys the whole time. For more than a _month_. You know how they are. Do you realize your letters are the only thing that keeps me in contact with the wizarding world? And you cut me off with no explanation!”

Ron crossed his arms now. “Harry, we would have written if we could’ve.”

The boy glanced at him. The fiery anger now turned to ice. “Oh really? You couldn’t have written to me? While you were staying here in this magical safe house the whole summer, having access to owls and magic and what not? You must have missed me _so _much.”

He knew he was acting terribly. He knew it. And yet the words just kept coming and coming. It’s not as if he wasn’t telling the truth, though. He had the right to be angry.

This wasn’t something that friends did.

Not this.

“Harry, we- “

“You what, ate all of the owls?”

“Dammit, Harry, let us explain!” Ron stepped forward. His face was flushed, his ears turning red.

Harry stepped back, crossing his arms as well. “Well explain, then.”

Hermione seemed to flinch and for a flashing moment, Harry regretted acting so harshly.

Then Ron started to talk. “We wanted to write, we really did. But Dumbledore forbade it.”

Hermione quickly nodded. “Yes, trust us, we wanted to reply! But Professor Dumbledore said it would be better if we didn’t and, well…”

He slowly, oh so slowly registered the words. All he could do was stare, his rage replaced by shock.

“Dumbledore?” he breathed out, pronouncing every syllable in pained disbelief, “_Dumbledore_ has forbid you from writing to me?”

They mutely nodded.

And Harry felt anger spiking again.

Oh for Morgana’s sake! What gave the man the right to tell his friends not to write him?

How dared he even _do_ something like that?

Cut him off from the wizarding world? Isolate him?

Harry couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe the man would meddle with his privacy to that extent.

Barty’s words came back, like an echo.

_…Dumbledore will do anything to ensure things go his way…_

He shook his head. He shook it again, trying to calm himself down.

He asked. “He just told you not to write to me? Why?”

Hermione bit her lip. “He said it would be safer. He didn’t want the owls to get traced. To us, or to you. He said it was important.”

_They_ were hidden under a magical charm. _He_ had been _kidnapped_ in daylight and no one cared. Owls getting tracked wouldn’t matter. Who would even track them? Also, he himself had sent Hedwig out too many times to even count. Even in past years.

All in all, all of these reasons were bullshit.

“And you couldn’t have just written to me? At least one letter saying you couldn’t talk? Or, I don’t know, not listen to him?”

To their credit, they both looked guilty.

“We wanted to. We did! But Dumbledore said we shouldn’t, and – oh, Harry, we’re so sorry!” She cried.

Ron and Hermione stared at him with pleading looks in their eyes. Hermione looked close to tears.

Dang.

It had hurt. Not receiving anything for more than a month had drawn all strength from him. Each time Hedwig had returned empty-clawed, a piece of him seemed to die.

It had been just as bad as in the 2nd year, even worse. Because this time, he had truly felt they were his friends. He had believed they wouldn’t abandon him. Not with what had gone down at the end of last year.

And yet – nothing. Not even a word all summer.

It seemed that with each new thing he’d heard from them, it stung even more. They had been here, safe, _together._

But… he knew dwelling on that wouldn’t help. It stung, it hurt, it felt like a betrayal, but he knew they didn’t want to hurt him.

He knew they were simply following orders.

“Harry, mate, we really wanted to write,” Ron broke the silence, “but Mom took all of our owls and wouldn’t let us use them. The only one she allowed us to write to, is Percy, but Percy has been acting like a moron all summer.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. We’ve read everything you’ve sent, Harry! But they wouldn’t let us.”

Harry blinked. “I… really?”

They nodded again, Ron bowing his head. “We’re sorry, Harry. Really.”

The teen let out a gush of air. He looked at both of them for a tense moment.

Oh, fuck it.

“Okay,” he said finally, “Okay, I forgive you. But don’t you dare do something like that again.”

Relief flooded their expressions. Then he got tackled into a hug from both sides, two pairs of arms pulling him close.

It startled a laugh from him, and he pulled his arms out so he could hug them back. It caused all of them to laugh and in a second, the mood lightened.

They pulled apart in a moment, sharing smiles.

Hermione tucked her hair behind one ear. “Still. We’re sorry.”

Harry shrugged, realizing he truly meant his next words. “It’s fine. You were just doing what you thought was right.”

She smiled again.

“So,” Harry started, deciding to change the theme, “what have you been doing the whole summer?”

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and blushed. “Well…”

“Well? What?”

Ron’s ears were completely flushed by now. “Well… me and ‘Mione are dating.”

Harry’s eyebrows went up. “Really? _Finally,_”

Ron made a sound. “What do you mean, finally?”

Harry only laughed, punching his shoulders. “Oh, c’mon, you two. It’s been so obvious.”

Both of them were red like tomatoes by now (and Harry took immense pleasure in it).

“But, really? You got together?”

The girl shyly smiled. “Yeah. Since I’ve got here few weeks back.”

The two of them exchanged glances, before blushing again, and Harry realized he was _beaming_. Ron and Hermione dating wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Harry knew ever since Ron showed him his Mark – although Ron, at that time, wouldn’t believe it could point to their bushy-haired friend – and couldn’t help but feel overjoyed to hear they _finally_ got together.

It was sweet.

And he was honestly glad to be able to focus on something else than their argument.

“So what happened?” He asked.

Ron said. “Well, you know how she refused to show us her Mark for the _whole_ year, right?”

Harry nodded, remembering quite vividly the way their friend always scrammed away from them when they brought the topic of Marks to her. They once tried to tell her it would be alright if she didn’t have any, but she simply told them they shouldn’t bother and wouldn’t talk to them for the whole day.

“Weelll,” Ron continued, now grinning like a fool, “we ran into each other the first day she was here and we fell down. And I saw her Mark. And then she locked herself in my room and refused to come out for hours.”

Hermione punched him in the shoulder and Ron let out a small ‘ouch!’

“So? It was embarrassing!”

“It was adorable! You were so red you looked like a Pygmy Puff!”

“_Ronald!”_

“Ouch, ouch, I’m sorry, I’m sorry – Harry, help me!”

Harry watched them banter and grinned.

He was happy for them. He really was. It was a tad painful, knowing he would never get anything similar, but he pushed those thoughts away. Ron and Hermione deserved this.

Hermione stopped punching her Soulmate and crossed her arms, while Ron mock-complained about how ‘cruel’ she was. Even though, Harry had seen Hermione not use any strength while ‘attacking’ him.

“Will you show me your Mark, then?” he asked.

Hermione blushed a bit, but nodded. Then she bent down and pulled up her pant leg, revealing her right ankle. A single sentenced wrapped around her leg, Ron’s scrawl unmistakable:

_We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it._

Oh. Oh, that made perfect sense. He chuckled. “Makes a lot more sense together, doesn’t it?”

It did. Ron made a face, reaching up to rub his own Mark. The words in Hermione’s lovely cursive flew down the bridge of his nose and Harry still didn’t understand how Ron hadn’t realized it before.

_Has anyone seen a toad?_

“Still,” he mused as he looked back at Hermione, “why haven’t you shown us? It’s nothing bad.”

She sighed. “Yeah. But even _he_ would have figured it out if he saw our Marks together.”

Ron made an indignant sound. “I’m not _that_ dumb!”

“Ron, you have the most obvious Mark in the world!” she moaned.

“So? Neville has asked me the same thing!”

“You thought your Soulmate was _Neville?”_

“Well, it could’ve been.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and burst out laughing. Ron managed to look offended for only a couple of moments before he joined in.

Oh, it was good to be here. So, _so_ good.

They calmed down and Hermione’s face lit up. “Oh, Harry, your birthdays have already passed! You got your Mark!”

Ron’s eyes widened “Yes, what did you get?”

Harry halted.

Oh.

Oh, no.

He looked at them. Could he tell them? _Should _he? It had been so easy with Neville and yet… They looked so excited. So happy and content and in a great mood and –

He took a deep breath.

“I didn’t get a Mark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back!  
Be prepared - a lot of characters coming to the scene :D  
Just to warn you - I have no idea where I'll go with Mione and Ron. They could end up being horrible... or maybe not. Who knows :D  
On that note, yes, Harry will stay in N°12. BUT - I swear, you'll love what I've got prepared for you. So don't worry!  
Also, you guys are AMAZING, AHHHHH  
I love you all <3  
Enjoy this chap, beauties!  
Hope you like it :)  
Sti


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back!  
Yay, new chapter! Whoo!  
It seems quarantine helped me write more... hm... :D  
We've got quite a lot of stuff to unpack in this chapter, so buckle up kids, it's going to be a wild ride :D  
There's an Order meeting. Fred and George are included and they are amazing. And Harry's rethinking his previous decisions...  
Now, a lot of you guys were telling me in the comments that you thought Harry's decision to forgive Ron and Hermione was too hasty. And I agree. If you waited for this chapter, you'd see Harry agrees as well ;)  
Enjoy this chapter guys! Sorry for any mistakes and hope you like it.  
Sti

3 days passed before something happened.

Harry stayed in N°12 for the whole time. It was… interesting, to say at least.

Both Ron and Hermione were sad when he told them about his Mark. They tried to be supportive, but Harry could see the badly-hidden looks of pity they shared. He took in their sad looks and rationalised it was better than if he told them the truth.

The days after, things went alright. They talked about their summers, passed their time together, moaned over homework – well that was mostly Ron since Harry had done his at Privet Drive out of sheer _boredom_ and Hermione already had hers – and did stuff together. Things were okay…

… only they weren’t.

Harry had thought for sure that things would be fine between them after he lashed out on them on the first night. He thought they had settled things down. That he had forgiven them and things would be okay.

And to some extent, he _did_ forgive them. He tried to. But he guessed it just hurt too much.

And, as Harry was quickly getting to realize – _forgiving didn’t mean forgetting._

He acted normal towards them, of course. He spent time with them and _liked_ doing so. He treated them like everything was fine.

And yet he couldn’t help but feel as if a barrier had grown between them. A barrier that only continued to grow taller with each new thing he kept from them.

He didn’t tell them about his Mark. Partly because he hadn’t thought he could deal with the outburst that would surely follow. For the most part, however, he just… didn’t want to tell them.

He didn’t know why. He simply guessed things would be simpler if he didn’t. He also guessed it would save a lot of trouble.

Then he saw them together, so happy and enamoured and realized they wouldn’t understand.

It was troubling to think of how _easy_ it had been to tell Neville. But Neville… Neville understood. Harry had sat there with him and felt that he would.

Wasn’t it horrifying to realize he didn’t feel the same way with his _best-friends_?

He also didn’t tell them about his ‘visit’ to Voldemort, or the trip to the Ministry. He didn’t say anything about Barty or the Prophecy. He knew they’d want explanations Harry didn’t feel comfortable giving.

It wasn’t as if Harry didn’t trust them. He did. He was just… wary.

Wary of what to say.

He knew they wouldn’t betray him. A part of him was sure that if he explained things to them, they’d understand.

But then he remembered how easy it was for them to follow Dumbledore’s orders and how quick Hermione could be to report to the adults if she didn’t think something was right and so he didn’t tell them.

He didn’t want to keep things from them. Truth was, he _liked_ his friends. He loved them. He enjoyed spending time with them. He didn’t want that barrier between them to grow.

But it was there. He felt himself getting farther away from them with every moment.

Because forgiving truly didn’t mean forgetting.

And he wasn’t sure if he _did_ forgive them. Harry was starting to realize that while he wanted to forgive them and be their friends and do things with them – well that was just it, wasn’t it?

He _wanted_ it. He wanted his friends back. He wanted to go back to before they isolated him and he wanted to get over it. He _yearned_ for it.

So the 1st night, he told them it was okay. The 1st night, he forgave them, because he just wanted to be okay again.

Forgiving didn’t mean forgetting and while he thought he _did_ forgive them to most extent, it was there.

He acted as if things were fine. He treated them the way he always treated them. He would lie if he said he wasn’t thankful when they threw him a birthday party on the 2nd day. And they all acted normal. As if everything was fine.

As if they hadn’t isolated him for over a month.

It made him angry. It made his gut churn when he noted everyone was acting as if _nothing had happened._ They smiled and laughed and talked and treated him the same way they would have any other summer as if there was nothing to talk about. Ron and Hermione had gone over it, after the first night and after that, they all acted as if everything. Was. Fine.

It wasn’t. The barrier grew.

He didn’t despise them for it. It irked him, it saddened him, yes, but he understood. He was simply wary.

So days passed with not much to talk about. They threw him a birthday party on the second day and Harry felt… Harry felt at home. It was way too nice of them to do.

He _liked_ them. They were still his friends. He would still sacrifice himself for them. They just… grown apart a bit.

On another note, however, things turned out great with Sirius. His Godfather had given him his gift after the party, when he volunteered to give Harry a tour around the mansion (what else would you call a creepy 4-floor house with old shrivelled heads of House Elves on the walls? Well? It was creepy and big. In Harry’s opinion, calling it a ‘house’ would be hurtful towards the unknowing citizens that might be brought in).

Sirius had taken Harry to his room and pulled out a small mirror.

“Look,” he had told him, “Harry, I’m sorry for not writing to you. I shouldn’t have ignored your letters and I’m sorry for leaving you alone. But with the situation going on, we thought it would be safer for both of us if I didn’t send any owls. Fudge blames anything Death Eater-related on me. He’s convinced himself the Dark Lord can’t possibly be around, so he’s even more urgent about finding me. They’re going through almost every owl they find.

“But,” he’d said handing Harry the mirror, “not being able to reply to you sucked, so I decided to give you this. I originally planned on giving it to you for Christmas, but this might be better.”

Harry had taken it, turning it around. “What is it?”

“It’s a two-way mirror your Dad and I created back in Hogwarts. We used it to communicate during our pranks. I have the other one. Just say my name and you’ll see me. We can talk without stupid Fudge _fudging_ his way into our conversation.”

He then burst out laughing at the silly joke and Harry couldn’t help but laugh too.

They calmed down after a while and Sirius had given him a sad smile. “Just know I won’t ever abandon you like that again, okay? I promise.”

Harry had held the mirror in his hands and looked at Sirius. When he said he forgave him, he meant it.

Things were better between him and Sirius. It was good to have someone like him around.

The days went on with nothing more to talk about. He spent his time with his friends, joked around with Fred and George, went to investigate the library with Hermione and watched as numerous people went through N°12.

Until the 3rd day when Severus Snape arrived.

***

Harry stepped into the hallway.

He had spent the morning with Ron and Hermione, but as he saw them get closer and closer to each other on the sofa, he decided to give the Soulmates their privacy.

The Boy Who Lived walked to the staircase and stepped on the first stair, ready to go check the kitchen, when he noticed a dark shade below.

The man only briefly stopped at the door, before swiftly striding towards the kitchen. His black coat bellowed behind him in a way Harry knew only one man’s coat was capable of.

It was –

“Severus Snape,” spoke a voice from his right.

Harry turned around coming face to face with one of the Weasley twins.

“We heard he was supposed to come,” said the other from Harry’s left.

He looked at both of them, wondering how they managed to sandwich him so quickly. “Fred, George. Didn’t see you coming.”

They grinned. “We know.”

He shook his head and looked down. “What is he doing here?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Fred said, giving Harry a charming grin from his right.

“The Order has a super-secret meeting today,” George said.

“Which they haven’t invited us to, of course.”

“We’re too young, they say,”

“We don’t care, we say.”

Harry chuckled, looking at the kitchen door. Alastor Moody was standing on the threshold, ready to close it at any moment.

“I didn’t know they had a meeting today.”

George nodded. “They haven’t told us either. But this one is official. Snape came so it has to be important.”

Harry frowned. Snape being part of the Order didn’t sit right with him.

He looked at the twins. There was no way they’d know about this meeting without planning to get in.

“You’re going to sneak in.” He said.

They grinned, mischief dancing in their eyes.

“Nope,” said Fred.

“We have something better.”

They proceeded to pull out a pink string with a tiny nub on one end and an extended portion on the other.

“That looks like gum.” Harry tilted his head.

They both started to act overly affronted.

“What?”

“No!”

“You didn’t!”

“Our life’s work! And it’s compared to a gum!”

“We thought you were our friend!”

He laughed putting his hands up. “Okay, okay, sorry. What it is then?”

“These,” Fred waved his hand around the gum-looking thread, “are Extendable Ears. We created them. They’re very useful.”

“They work like this. See this part, here?” George indicated to the nub, “you put that under any door you want, no matter if it’s been charmed or not.”

“And you listen through this,” Fred poked the larger part, “You’ll get to hear _everything._ And when we say everything, we mean _everything._”

“You created that?”

They both beamed, looking very happy with themselves.

He looked to the kitchen again and couldn’t help but smile. Okay.

“How many meetings have you already eavesdropped on?”

“Eh, not many, unfortunately.” George sighed.

“We’ve been trying to get in there since they didn’t let us into the first one. With little success.”

“Moody charms _everything_. It took us quite some time to get past his spells.”

“We tried last time, but it still needed some tinkering with. But we have it now.”

“We tested it out last night when Mom thought we were in our rooms.” George grinned, “It worked!”

“That’s how we found out about this meeting.”

Harry felt as if watching a ping pong match. He took the information in, feeling a wave of awe as he looked at the thread.

They _created_ that. They didn’t charm something or made a potion. They haven’t searched for already existing spells. They _created_ this out of nothing.

“Wow,” he mumbled.

George’s face split into a shit-eating grin. “Oh, Freddie, he thinks we’re cool!”

“Awwwww,”

Harry threw them his best-unimpressed look. “Shouldn’t you put it in before they close the door?”

They all glanced down. Moody looked around and closed the door with a snap.

Oh.

But the twins didn’t look off-put. They exchanged grins and Harry was suddenly glad he was on their side.

“We don’t need the door to be open.” Fred took one end of the ear and threw it over the railing.

They watched as it fell. Fred moved it around expertly and the Ear crawled under the kitchen door.

As if a switch came on, the sound emitted from the Ear. Harry expected static but what came out was a clear noise. It felt as if they were standing in the kitchen with them.

There was shuffling and grumbling and the sound of silent unrecognizable chatter before someone cleared their throat.

“Alright, listen up,” Growled a voice which they quickly identified as Alastor Moody’s, “Dumbledore called us together, so we better get to it.”

“Where _is_ Dumbledore?” Asked someone.

“None of your business. He can’t come right now. So. As many of you know, 3 days ago, we moved Potter to this house. You don’t have to worry about him from now on.”

Harry frowned. They were talking about him. Just like that.

He could feel the twins’ eyes on him but didn’t look up.

“You sure? He already ran away 3 times,” Someone laughed and Harry recognized the man from Barty’s memory, Dedalus.

An annoyed exhaled. “Yes, thanks to your inefficient watching abilities. He’s fine here.” Another set of grumbles.

Harry grit his teeth. _Great. As if it was your concern where I am…_

Fred and George lifted their eyebrows at him. “You ran away?”

“3 times?”

“Nice.”

He looked at their matching grins and gave them a small smile. They made him feel a bit better.

“Kingsley,” spoke Moody again, “how are things unveiling at the Ministry?”

A deep voice responded. “Fudge is adamant. He’s set out to find Black and he won’t listen to anyone about anything.”

Harry’s Godfather barked out a laugh. “He can come get me if he wants me so much.”

“He hasn’t done much but talk, but he’s already controlling the owls, so it won’t be too long before he does something else. More worrying is how close he’s getting with his Senior Undersecretary. Dolores Umbridge is a vile woman and she’s doing everything she can to get more power. I’d keep an eye on her if anything.”

Someone asked. “Do you think she has associations with You-Know-Who?”

“No. But it wouldn’t surprise me if she ended up joining him.”

Harry recognized Tonks in the next voice, “Isn’t that the pink woman? She’s awful.”

“Yes, she does like to dress that way.”

“I swear, she looks like a frog,”

Her comment was quickly shot down by a few, but Harry could hear Sirius laughing.

“Alright, keep an eye on her. Has anyone tried to get to the Department?”

_The Department of Mysteries? _Oh, of course, they were guarding it. Wait, did that mean they knew he went there? He’d visited only a few days ago!

Harry felt his insides squeeze in panic. Then the reply came and all of his anxieties were replaced by complete and utter shock.

“Nah,” said a rather masculine voice, “no one besides the Unspeakables have gone down for weeks. And even those before hadn’t stepped into the Hall of Prophecies.”

That was… that was…

Fred and George were shocked too, but for other reasons.

“A Prophecy?” Fred breathed out.

“_That’s_ what they’re always talking about?”

Harry absent-mindedly nodded, staring at the Ear.

It couldn’t be anyone else. He had only heard the man once, but he was _sure_, he _knew_ this was-

“Alright, Greengrass,” Moody growled as if to confirm Harry’s thoughts, “continue watching it, will you?”

“Wait. You knew about the prophecy?” George asked.

Harry blinked, turning towards him. _Oh. Shoot. Quick, think something up_!

“Well…” he looked back down, “_they_ haven’t told me anything. So I searched for myself.”

The twins looked at him in awe. Then their eyes sparkled with mischief and suddenly, he was hugged tight from both sides.

“Harry, you trickster!” “We always knew you’d take after us!”

He laughed, patting them on their arms. He listened as the Order continued talking about new Death Eater attacks – which were none - and his mind swirled.

The man down there was Unspeakable Greengrass. The same Unspeakable Greengrass who’d brought him to the Hall of Prophecies. And the man was _lying_ right to their faces.

Harry _knew _the man had known it was him. The Unspeakable had pulled out his chart. There was no way the man forgot about him when Harry had walked in just 5 days ago.

Greengrass was with the Order. Or was he? He acted like it, but he did just keep crucial information from them…

He could be a spy. It would make sense. After all, he didn’t care about Barty the whole time they were there. If he was on Voldemort’s side it would explain things.

But Harry thought the Greengrasses were neutral… hm… well, one thing was for sure. The man just saved Harry’s ass.

“Alright,” Moody said and Harry reverted his attention to them, “Snape, any news from You-Know-Who?”

The twins let him go, all of them now fully focused on the Ear.

Severus Snape answered in his long drawl. “He doesn’t call me very often. However, he gave all of us a new order. None of us are supposed to harm Potter in any way. It seems to me he wishes to have Potter all for himself. Nothing surprising.”

Harry pulled in a sharp breath. Voldemort held up his end of the deal.

_Oh, dear._

Silence settled for a moment. Then Moody coughed. “Does anyone have anything else they’d like to share with us? No? Then that’s it. You can leave, now.”

Sound of chairs being pulled back and steps on the floor resounded through the room, as everyone got up to leave.

“Actually, I would like to speak with Potter.” said Snape, “Alone.”

Harry paled. Oh. Oh, Merlin. Why the fuck?

Sirius growled, “No. No way. I’m not leaving him alone with you.”

More shuffling and the steps started getting closer. George widened his eyes. “They’re coming to the door,”

Fred made a panicked sound, as someone stopped before the kitchen door and _Accio’d_ the Ears to him right before they opened.

_Phew_. That was close.

“That’s your problem, Black. Dumbledore tasked me to talk with him on _important_ issues.” Snape deadpanned.

They could hear everything even without the Ears, now that the door opened and they watched in stunned terror as Snape and Sirius continued to snap at each other.

“Well if it’s important, then I can be there too,”

“I’ve said it once already, Black, I need to speak with him _alone,_”

“Yeah, well then you can go suck my – “

“Sirius!” Mrs Weasley stopped him.

_Oh, Snape’s going to eat me. They’re going to eat me. Does this place have a fire escape?_

Then someone calmly walked out of the door. Harry felt his stomach drop as he saw a familiar violet cape and hood. All three of them watched as the Unspeakable walked right beneath them, before stopping and looking up.

Even with the mask on, Harry could see he was looking straight at him. Unspeakable Greengrass gave him a finger salute and left.

“What the hell…” George whispered.

“That was the Unspeakable,”

“Do you think he knew? What if he knew?”

“What if all of them knew?!”

Harry calmed them down. “I don’t think he did. This wasn’t about the Ears…”

He was met with two pairs of inquiring eyes.

“How do you know that?” Fred asked.

“Well, um,” he gulped, “you see, he’s sort of the reason why I know about the Prophecy…?”

He gave them a nervous smile.

_It’s not as if I’m lying… just withholding information… that’s not lying…_

The twins looked ready to ask more questions when Harry was saved by – even if that was horrifying to say – Severus Snape.

“Potter!” The professor snapped from the ground floor.

They snapped their heads down. Harry’s eyes widened as he watched the man start climbing the stairs.

“Uh, oh.” Mumbled Fred.

“_Uh, oh_,” Agreed George.

“Save me,” whispered Harry.

Sirius ran out of the door. “Snape! I told you I’m not letting you bother my Godson!”

The Head of Slytherin shot him a look full of loathing. “Stop acting like a dog, Black, it will make things easier for all of us.” Then he redirected his glare to Harry, “Potter, come down. We need to talk.”

Harry’s eyes flitted from Snape to Sirius and then to the twins. Sirius looked miffed, but he was silent. Snape was looking ready to curse someone.

“Um, about what sir?” He squawked out.

Snape’s expression clouded. “Private matters. Now stop being _stubborn_ and come. Down.”

Sirius was tapping his foot on the ground. Harry shared queasy looks with Fred and George. He wasn’t getting out of this, was he?

He slowly walked down the stairs.

Snape waved his hand at an empty room next to him. It was the heavily cluttered drawing-room Mrs Weasley was planning to clean up.

Snape send him another glare and Harry trudged inside.

_Please don’t let him kill me._

Sirius growled in annoyance. “I’ll be here this entire time, Snivellus. You hurt him and I’ll hurt _you._”

The Potion Master slammed the door in his face.

They were alone.

Harry coughed, looking around the room. It must have been a nice place before. Currently, cobwebs covered every surface. Dust laid on the closets like snow. Along with cushioned sofas and an unlit fireplace, numerous wardrobes and see-through cupboards were lining the walls.

Harry glanced back to Snape and remembered – the man knew Legilimency. He quickly looked back to the cupboards.

His eyes landed on one on his left. There was something… different about it. Something pulling his attention to it without knowing why. No, maybe not the _cupboard_ in itself, there was something on the second shelf, something that was calling him, something strange but familiar –

“Potter,”

Harry looked back. Right. He scratched his chin, deciding to stare at Snape’s chin. “So um, what did you want to talk about?”

The man crossed his arms. “Dumbledore sent me to ask you about your Mark.”

Harry stiffened, forcing himself _not_ to look into his eyes. “My Mark?”

“Yes. Dumbledore thought it best for you to show us, to see if we can find your Soulmate. He believes the Dark Lord might be inclined to hurt them to hurt _you_, so you should show us before he gets to you.”

_A bit too late for that…_

Harry wisely didn’t tell him. Instead, he shrugged and spoke as nonchalantly as he could. “That won’t be a problem, then.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t have any.”

Snape scoffed. “Stop saying nonsense, Potter. There’s no way the Boy Who Lived doesn’t have a Mark.”

“Well I don’t, okay? I’m Mark-less.”

Snape looked at him for a moment, as if contemplating the answer. Then he sneered. “You’re lying.”

Harry of course was, but he was also getting angry. “No, I’m not! I _don’t_ have a Mark. I searched everywhere. Do you enjoy laughing at me?”

The Potion Master frowned. He kept his eyes straight on Harry’s as if – as if he was trying to read his mind. Harry did his best to look at his chin or his shoulder – hoping Snape would just let it be.

It took way too long, but eventually, Snape shook his head. “Alright then, Potter. I don’t have time to deal with any more of your nonsense.”

He turned to the door.

Harry watched him go with relief mixed with irritation.

“And _do_ everyone a favour and don’t do stupid things, Potter.” The man sneered.

Harry rolled his eyes and watched as Snape abruptly opened the door and with a swirl of his cloak left.

He sighed, walking out as well. Unsurprisingly, Sirius, Fred and George were standing right behind the door. His Godfather was glaring at Snape’s retreating back with flaming resentment. In a flashing moment, Harry was reminded of the crazed man he’d met in his 3rd year.

Then it was gone and Sirius gave him a sad look. “I can’t believe the guts of this man.”

Harry sighed again, shrugging. _What can you do…_

“Are you okay?” Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged once more. “Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I?”

Then he noticed their guilty looks. He frowned. “What?”

George slowly pulled out the Expandable Ears out of his pocket. “We listened to your conversation. Sorry. We just didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Ah. That explained their behaviour and how the Ears travelled from Fred to George. Harry sighed for the 3rd time.

“It’s okay. I’m actually glad you did.”

Although them listening also meant they’ve heard…

Sirius reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your Mark. You should have told me.”

_Oh…_ Ah, this was awkward.

He avoided his eyes. “Um, it – well it never came up.”

Sirius looked crestfallen. It made Harry’s gut twist with guilt. He _hated_ having to lie. He hated how sad it made Sirius.

_But it’s better than if he knew the truth._ He reminded himself.

It didn’t make things much better.

“Harry, look, it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I don’t care that you’re Mark-less – it doesn’t make you any less of a person, okay?”

He shot him a nervous smile. “Yeah, I – I know. Thanks. I’m fine.” He added at his inquiring look, “I’ve had some time to come to terms with it.”

Sirius regarded him as if to make sure Harry wasn’t lying – _sorry, Sirius –_ and then he brought him to a hug. “That’s good. Just don’t let people get you down for it. Think about Minnie!”

Ah, yes. Professor McGonagall was one of the few Mark-less who didn’t keep their state a secret. She wore the absence of her Mark as a badge, proving to everyone that you didn’t need a Soulmate and still could be successful. She had had a husband and kids as well.

Harry stored Sirius’ arguments for when he met Neville again.

They departed and Harry looked at the twins. They were looking at him with narrowed eyes and Harry silently cursed.

They knew. They knew he was lying.

Sirius looked at the twins and put his hands on his hips. “You were listening to the meeting, weren’t you?”

They smiled innocently.

“What?”

“Us?”

“Never!”

Thankfully, Sirius simply smiled. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you. Frankly, I can’t even be mad. I told them you should be able to come but they’re very stubborn.”

Harry felt himself smile. It was nice to know he had someone on his side.

“But make sure your Mom doesn’t find out about it. Molly would have a fit.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Absolutely!”

The Marauder laughed. “Well okay. I’ll have to go. Keep out of trouble as much as is possible with you three.” He gave them a wink and walked away.

Once again, the three were left alone. Silence settled for a moment as they watched the ex-prisoner disappear into the kitchen. Then the twins’ eyes reverted back to Harry and he looked down at his watch just so he could ignore them for a tiny bit.

It was only 11. How could so many things happen before lunch?

“Hey, Harry,” George said, playing with the Ear.

“So we thought,”

“We wanted to talk to you.”

He gulped. “Um… a lot of people want to do that today…”

Fred laughed. “We know. Don’t worry, we won’t eat you. Want to come to our room?”

“It’s more private.”

“We could show you our _other_ inventions.”

Not seeing other options, Harry agreed. He followed them up the stairs into the 3rd floor, noting how some of the steps creaked and some didn’t. They passed the portrait of Mrs Black in silence and managed to make it into the twins’ room without meeting anyone.

Harry wasn’t sure what to expect as he stepped in, but he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Two twin beds, similar to those Harry and Ron had in their room, stood next to each other, covered with various items and clothes. Unlike Harry and Ron’s whose beds stood opposite each other, these beds both stood on one side of the room. On the opposite side stood a wide table covered with parchments, inkwells, things for school – and an uncountable amount of indescribable _things._

Pieces of metal, strings similar to the Ears, potion vials, little mechanical machines, pieces of candy and different tools. With so many pictures and notes, it was clear Fred and George took their invention-business seriously.

Harry walked over to the table in awe. He picked up a piece of parchment with things he hadn’t seen since his last Math class on them and shook his head in wonder. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Since our 2nd year.”

“No, Freddie, I think it was the end of our 1st.”

“Oh, you’re probably right, we tried to make Charlie’s hair go green, didn’t we?”

“Good old times…”

Harry lifted his eyebrows. “That long? I mean, this is _amazing_. It must have taken so much work.”

“Oh, it did,” agreed Fred, “But we always wanted to make our own pranks. And we found out you can create spells. So we went right into it.”

“It proved to be much harder than we expected, of course… But nothing’s free. And we’ve already invented a bunch of stuff!”

“Yeah, remember that candy we gave your cousin?”

Harry chuckled, “Dudley wasn’t able to eat sweets for _weeks_ after.”

“Mission well accomplished, then. Well, we invented more types.”

George pushed a few colour-wrapped bonbons into his hand. “We have Fainting Fancies, Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats. We’re trying to make Fever Fudges, but they’re problematic.”

“You take one, it makes you ill for a while and you can skip class!”

“Nothing _too_ serious, of course.”

“We tested them on ourselves.”

“Unpleasant, but worth it!”

Harry looked from the ill-inducing candies to the twins and beamed. “You guys are amazing.”

“We know,” they said in unison.

Harry put the candies down on the table. They moved to sit down on the beds and Harry once again found himself sandwiched between them.

He swore they were doing it on purpose.

“So, Harry…” said Fred.

Harry gulped. “Yes?”

_They were going to talk about his Mark, weren’t they?_

“You lied to Snape, didn’t you?”

_They were._

He shifted. “I didn’t. Why would I?”

The twins shared long looks over his head. He was certain they were silently talking with each other like only the two of them could and he was starting to get squeamish.

“Harry,” slowly started George from his right, “we know when someone’s hiding their Mark. We’ve been doing the same thing.”

At first, he paled, his mind trying to come up with anything believable to tell them. Then he realized what George said.

“Wait, what?” he twisted his head from one to the other, “I thought you guys _had_ Soulmates. Angelina,” he pointed to Fred, “and Katie,” he turned back to George.

They shared that look again and simultaneously sighed.

“Yeah,”

“About that…”

“They’re not our Soulmates.”

“And we’re not really,” Fred made quotation marks with his fingers, “’dating’.”

He frowned. “Then why…”

“Angelina and Katie are Soulmates.”

“But their parents are complete assess.”

“They don’t condone same-sex dating.”

“And when we realized they needed to hide their Marks as well, we decided to team up with them.”

“We always go on ‘double dates’ as you may have noticed.”

“So that Katie and Angelina can go together. We usually leave them to it.”

Harry listened and his confusion only grew. “Okay, but what about you? Do you have same-sex Soulmates as well? You know your Mom wouldn’t mind, Charlie has a boyfriend in Romania and she’s okay with it.”

They shook their heads. They looked at each other for a fleeting moment.

“Freddie, I think we should show him,”

Fred nodded and Harry watched in surprise as both moved few centimetres from him, pulling up their shirts.

His eyes widened as he stared at both of their hips. In the exact position over their hips, mirroring each other, stood their Marks.

_Gred_ on Fred and _Forge_ on George.

He was at loss. He guessed he was stupid, but he didn’t understand why their nicknames would be such a problem, when –

“Harry, have you ever heard anyone calling us like this besides _us_?”

He stared. And stared. Then the lightbulb went on. “Oh,”

“Yeah, _oh_.”

“You mean you two are…”

“Yeah. We’re each other’s Soulmates.”

“It freaked the _hell_ out of us.”

Harry walked over to the table and leaned on it, staring at them in shock. “But how? That…?”

“Please don’t freak out,” Fred made a face.

“We have no idea why either.”

“And there’s nothing weird going on, trust us.”

“Like yeah, seriously, nothing between us. No incest here.”

“I mean, of course, he’s hot, he looks like _me_,” Fred quipped, “But Morgana, no.”

“We’re twins. But we woke up with this and…”

They slumped their shoulders and Harry realized it was the first time he ever saw them look so _sad_.

“We didn’t talk with each other for an _entire_ _day._”

“It was horrifying.”

“We didn’t know what to make of it, but… but then we realized it sort of… made sense?”

“We’ve always been _really_ close. And we’re so similar. I’ve never met anyone I’d understand better.”

“Our bodies, minds and magic are the same. It seems our souls are as well.”

Harry listen to their explanation, trying to wrap his mind around it. But as he looked at how they slumped the _exact _same way, or how they always talked like one person…

“I,” he cleared his throat, “I think it makes sense.”

They looked at him with wide eyes and Harry shifted as he slowly explained.

“I mean, it’s unconventional, but… you’re right, you’re inseparable. You two are always attached by the hip. And I frankly can’t imagine one of you without the other. I’ve also never met anyone who could speak like you.”

“You mean,”

“Like this?”

They fist-bumped.

Harry smiled despite himself. “Yeah, like that. I… actually, I don’t even know why I’m surprised. You two… make sense.”

They gave him sad smiles. “Thanks, Harry. If only everyone could be so accepting…”

“Angelina and Katie are fine with it, but you can see why we haven’t told anyone else.”

“It’s weird and unconventional and no one would believe we’re not together.

George made a face, “We’ve heard people say we’re _too_ close even before we got our Marks.”

“So… yeah.”

Harry looked at them.

Society was really stupid, wasn’t it?

“People are dicks,” he said, “but I think there’s nothing wrong with you. You guys are… just you. And Soulmates are people you understand the most, right? That fits.”

They beamed at him.

He smiled, shrugging with one shoulder, “Actually, you guys might even have better Marks than I…”

“Aha!”

“So he _has_ one!”

Ups…

“Look, Harry,” said Fred, “if you don’t want to tell us, it’s fine. But trust us,”

“We won’t judge you.”

He felt a lump form in his throat. “I – thanks, guys.”

They grinned at him. “No matter who it is, it’s okay.”

He shakily laughed. “Oh, really? Even if – even if he’s on the _other_ side?”

They looked at him with tilted heads.

Then George softly asked, “He’s with You-Know-Who?”

Harry gulped. “Something like that.”

“Yikes,”

“Oh, that sucks,”

He made a non-committal sound.

Fred scratched his elbow. “Do you think there’s any chance he could come over to the Light?”

_Yeah, once pigs learned to fly…_

“I highly doubt that. I’ve met him a couple of times and he… well, he probably hates me.”

_Probably. Ahahahahahaha…._

“Harry…”

His nose started to burn in the same way it always did before he started crying.

“And he’s not even a good person. I just… I just wish I was normal for once; you know?”

In a second, they were next to him, wrapping their arms around him.

“Harry, you idiot,” Fred muttered softly.

“You can’t choose your Mark,” George added.

Harry felt his lips wobble. He hugged them as best as he could, pushing his face into the place their shoulders met.

“Thanks, guys. You’re amazing, you know that?”

“We know.”

His eyes were watery, he couldn’t speak openly to his best-friends and a lot of stuff wasn’t going well, but in that moment, Harry realized he wasn’t alone.

And for that moment, that was enough.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Mrs Weasley decided they should clean the drawing-room.

No one really wanted to, but Mrs Weasley could be scary, so they shuffled in, preparing to start cleaning the cluttered space.

Harry had been there a day ago but he hadn’t realized just how _much_ they’d have to clean. Not only was the place coated with dust and cobwebs – those were dealt with quickly by Mrs. Weasley - no, the room was overflowing with Dark artefacts. Things that seemed evil just by their looks. So the real work was in picking those things, deciding if they were safe or not and then putting them on the appropriate pile.

But it seemed to go on _forever._ It was horrible. The things weren’t as bad as the products in Borgin and Burkes. But it was irritating.

“I can’t believe we have to do this,” Ron grumbled.

Hermione sighed, putting a silver necklace into a trash bag. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we’ll be able to stop.”

“I know, but we’ve been at this for hours and we’ve barely made any progress!”

Harry grimaced. “You’re right, but frankly, I don’t think your Mom cares.”

Ron groaned. Harry couldn’t help but agree.

He pulled out a book but as he opened it, it crumbled in his hands, pages flying to the floor. _Great…_

He crouched down and started to pick up the papers. He grabbed a handful pushing it into the nearest trash bag without much thought. As he picked some more papers, he realized it was written in a language he had never seen before.

It looked like tiny swirly lines, small wiggles that curled around each other on the page as if someone drew them without care or logic. Somehow, Harry couldn’t help but feel intrigued. He had never seen anything like this before – so of course, he couldn’t read it – but something in it called to him.

He couldn’t understand why. It was just a bunch of wiggly lines.

_Kinda looks like snakes,_ he thought idly.

Well… better leave it. He went to push the rest into the bag, before stopping. It wouldn’t hurt to keep one page, right?

He quickly stuck it into his back pocket and finished throwing the rest out.

Then he went back to picking other things, relieved to see no one paid him any attention.

Ginny pulled out a colourful cube. “Mr Black, what is this?”

Sirius walked over to them. “Don’t call me Mr Black, kid, you know it makes me feel old. And that… oh, that’s a Kubik’s cube.”

Hermione frowned. “Don’t you mean _Rubik’s _cube?”

She was right. It _did_ look like the Rubik’s cube. But Sirius shook his head. “What? No. That’s a Kubik’s cube. It’s a game. You have to put all the squares of one color to one side, see? I remember playing it. It bites when you do it wrong.” He added with a smile.

Harry and Hermione blinked at him. “So it’s a biting Rubik’s cube?”

“Don’t know what you kids have with it.” he shook his head, before turning to Ginny, “You can keep it.”

Then he went back to his side of the room and Harry sighed. _Wizards._

They continued cleaning the room. Harry resigned himself to a day full of spiders, cursed objects and sneezing when he went to throw out a small ring and someone tackled him.

He gasped in shock as tiny hands grabbed the ring and started praying it out of his hands with a force that almost knocked him off his feet. He yelped, trying to tug the ring back. The _thing_ was gripping him as if its life depended on it.

Harry tried to shake it off and finally saw the attacker. It was a shrivelled and old House Elf, not dissimilar to his friends on the wall. He wore a black rag, muttering and screeching indecipherable things as he tried to get the ring.

_What the hell?!?!_

“Let me go!” Harry yelled.

The House Elf screeched again, starting to beat Harry with his tiny legs. Harry tried shaking him off, panic rising.

“Kreacher!” Sirius finally put a stop to it, “Let him go!”

The Elf – if his name really was Kreacher then no wonder he was so pissed – made a sound of pure annoyance and jumped off, staring at Harry with contempt.

“New Master is giving me bad orders.” he started muttering, “What a disappointment to the Mistress. Hanging out with half-breeds and blood-trait–”

“Kreacher! Shut up and leave us alone!”

“Destroying the fortune, throwing it out like trash. No respect for this house. Mistress would never –”

Sirius looked close to snapping. “Kreacher. Leave. That’s an order.”

The House Elf looked at Sirius with beady eyes full of hatred. Then he scoffed and disappeared with a small ‘pop’.

Harry stared at the vacant spot in shock. “What the hell?”

Sirius sighed. “That was Kreacher. My House Elf. He hates me.”

“I knew he’d start bothering us. Merlin.” Ron huffed.

Harry turned around. “You knew he was here?”

Ron and Hermione blinked at him and shared hesitant looks.

Oh, right. They were in this house for the whole summer. Amazing.

He turned to Sirius. “Why was he trying to take the ring? And if he’s your House Elf then why does he hate you?”

By now, everyone slowly came back to their work. It seemed Harry was the only one shocked.

_Are sudden attacking House Elves a normal occurrence that no one ever told me about…?_

Sirius grimaced and indicated to Harry to follow him. They walked to a cabinet Sirius had been cleaning before and his Godfather started talking.

“Well, truth be told I didn’t want Kreacher to begin with. He’s a family Elf and that’s the only reason why he’s around. Unfortunately for him, he has to obey me, since I’m the Head of the family. Unfortunately for _me_, I have to withstand his grumbling.”

He swiped an entire shelf of tiny machines into the bag.

“Was he always in your family?”

“Yeah. I knew him since I was little. He loves my mother to bits. Still talks to her portrait, idiot…”

Harsh. Harry frowned. “Why does he hate you, then? If you grew up with him…”

Sirius barked out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, Harry, that doesn’t matter much. He blindly believes everything my mother ever said and you’ve heard what she thinks about me. I was always a black sheep amongst the Blacks… or maybe a ‘white’ sheep, I don’t know.”

“Because you’re a Gryffindor.”

“Yes. I rebelled against everything. When I was 16, I ran away. My mother disowned me from the family.”

Harry made a face. That wasn’t nice.

“So… is Kreacher always like this?”

Sirius sighed. “Sadly, yes. Always goes around muttering about how much of a disappointment and failure we all are and how horrible everything is and how my mother would be so angry if she saw it… It’s best to just ignore him. Kreacher never got on with _anyone_, except my mother and… and Regulus, of course.”

A bitter smile appeared on his lips. Sirius watched the wall in front of him, something akin to melancholy entering his eyes.

Harry gently inquired. “Regulus?”

“My younger brother.”

He blinked. “You have a brother?”

“I _had_ a brother. Regulus died 15 years ago.”

Harry gulped. Oh. Well, wasn’t that great to hear… He looked at Sirius who went back to cleaning and felt sad. He hadn’t known almost anything about Sirius’ family and each new information made Harry sadder.

A mother who disowns you? A younger brother who died? A House Elf who hates you?

He scrunched up his nose and put a mouldy piece of something into the bag.

“What happened? If I can ask?” He added.

His Godfather stopped with his cleaning. He looked sad, but it felt distant. Like a wound that once hurt but numbed by now.

“You can. I don’t know, though. He, unlike me, was the family’s favourite. The best son my parents could ever ask for. A Slytherin, a Prefect, played as the Seeker. Ate their agenda right up. We were almost inseparable when we were little, but once I got into Gryffindor and a few years later he into Slytherin, well…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,”

“Yeah, it’s okay. He became a Death Eater later on. Then he disappeared into Merlin knows where and no one ever heard of him.”

Oh.

A Death Eater?

Should Harry take that as good news or bad news? At this point, it was both, probably…

“Do you think he’s dead?” He asked unnecessarily.

Sirius gave him a sad smile. “Probably. But hey, it’s okay. We weren’t talking at that point, and he could be a git…”

_Better to change the theme._ “Kreacher liked him, you said?”

“Oh, yeah. He _worshipped_ the ground Regulus walked on. I think he has a stash of Reg’s stuff somewhere, old creep. Right now, I think he’s just mad we’re cleaning things out. He believes this trash is valuable.”

To prove his point, Sirius picked up a piece of old gum. He threw it into the bag with a grimace.

Harry thought about it. Thought about the disappearance of Sirius’ brother. Then back to the day before and of Greengrass… and realized there was someone he could ask about both of them.

Sirius started talking about the pranks he and Harry’s father used to come up with, and Harry filed his idea for later. He listened to what his Godfather had to say and started cleaning again.

***

Mrs. Weasley let them go right after lunch. Harry didn’t waste any time and headed straight to his room.

He had made sure Ron wasn’t following him – it wasn’t all that hard, as Hermione wanted to go to the library and while Ron didn’t usually enjoy books, he definitely enjoyed Hermione…

Seriously, Soulmates made fools out of people.

(Not as if Harry wasn’t the same, carrying a piece of someone’s _dead soul _with him… because he was sentimental… hm…)

He walked into his room and closed the door. Hedwig was sitting on his desk, head under her wing, most likely sleeping. She pushed her head up as the door fell shut, giving him a disgruntled hoot.

He smiled and walked over to her. “Hey, girl, sorry for waking you up.”

She hooted again. He went to caress her beak, but she snapped at him and so he decided to leave her alone. Angry Hedwig was a Dangerous Hedwig.

His owl had made her way to the Grimmauld Place on her own. She arrived on the 2nd day of his stay and he couldn’t be happier to see her. She seemed pleased as well – she left out for her hunts in the night, came back – sometimes with dead mice, yew – and slept during the day.

Harry was glad to see that even if the signs of it were small, she looked healthier. And happier.

Being away from the Dursleys had helped them both.

“I’m going to have a job for you, girl.” He told her, sitting behind the desk.

Hedwig pushed her head under her wing in response. Harry sighed and took out a piece of parchment and a feather.

Harry didn’t know what to make of Unspeakable Greengrass. And he didn’t know enough about the Death Eaters to know what happened to Regulus Black.

But he knew someone who could.

He put the feather down and started to write.

_Barty,_

_You said I could write, so I’m writing. You were right, even if I didn’t want to believe you. The Order was waiting for me right at the Leaky Cauldron. I almost ran away, but they brought me to the Order’s Headquarters. Can’t tell you where it is and don’t even want to, but I’m fine. _

_Things are fine._

_No one is telling me anything, even if they were talking about me earlier. Same with the stalking – I’m still hoping someone will bring it up and apologize… but I guess I’m not that important._

_Ironic that Voldemort told me more than they did, huh?_

_But anyway, I didn’t write to whine. I have some questions and you’re probably the only one I can write to. Well, Voldemort would know as well, I guess, but, you know, no thanks._

_When we went to the Hall of Prophecies, we went with Unspeakable Greengrass. He didn’t seem to be bothered by you at all. And, somehow, he was in one of the Order meetings and said nothing about us going in. So I’m asking: is he on your side? Does he work as a spy for the Dark, or did you Obliviate him when I wasn’t looking?_

_And the second thing, do you know what happened to Regulus Black? My Godfather told me he was a Death Eater, but that he went missing 15 years ago. So, I guess I wanted to ask if you knew anything about it._

_That would be all. I hope you’re doing okay._

_Bye, _

_Harry._

He read it over. How come he was casually writing to a Death Eater for advice was beyond him, but Harry wisely realized that his life was filled with too much drama for him to worry about this.

It was better to just accept it. In the bigger picture, writing to a former enemy was the least of his worries. 

What was worrying, and what made Harry still with a jolt of panic, was that the Ministry was controlling almost every owl. Sirius had said so, many times. And Hedwig… no matter how much he loved her, she always stuck out like a sore thumb.

Which meant…

Which meant that it would be easier to spot her – and read through the letter.

He _couldn’t_ let anyone read through the letter. If anyone found out about this – about Harry’s connection to the Dark side…

Not good. Definitely not good. But what, then? What was he supposed to do? He could borrow someone else’s owl, but even that could be caught.

Christ, wasn’t this like a major interruption into someone’s privacy, checking everyone’s mail?

Well, anyways, owls were, in that case, a no-go… but how did you send a letter without an owl?

Harry frowned. He looked out of the window, looking at the streets of London. He watched the cars, the people, the houses with puffing chimneys – wait.

He stood up. Hedwig peeked out at him. He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, girl. I guess I don’t have anything for you.”

He went to rub her head and she let him. She pecked him on his finger, but it was an affection sort, so it was okay.

He took the letter and walked out of his room.

Maybe he couldn’t use an owl – but he could use a fireplace. And he knew there was one right in the drawing-room. If he could find some Floo Powder, then he could send the letter.

He went down to the 1st floor, casually passing Ginny on the stairs. She gave him a smile, but it wasn’t the bashful kind he was used to from before.

Once Ginny found her Soulmate, things cleared out between them. Honestly, Harry felt grateful for it. Even if Ron thought her Soulmate was weird – which Michael Corner wasn’t, but Ron also thought Krum was weird, so his opinion didn’t weight _too _much.

He passed her and watched as she disappeared into her room. He looked around. No one. He slid into the drawing-room.

It seemed luck was on his side – for once – because the room was empty. Harry walked over to the fireplace and felt his heart skip a beat.

A bag of Floo Powder sat on the top.

_Yes._

He grabbed it and kneeled down before the hearth, not believing his luck. He thought for sure he’d have to go looking for the Powder – but here it was.

But first – the fire. He thought about using his wand but discarded the thought immediately. He didn’t need letters from the Ministry about Underage magic. So… so what now?

He needed to start the fire, otherwise, it wouldn’t matter that he had the Powder. Alright. Alright.

Harry stood up. This place was full of everything you could think of. There was no way there’d be nothing he could use to create a fire.

He looked around. Hm… He walked around the cupboards. There was a lot of trinkets and tiny machines. Some of them could create fire, right?

He passed one of the cupboards made of glass and stopped. The same feeling, he had when he had been in here the previous day, was back. Something was pulling him towards the 2nd row.

He looked down. There was a bracelet, a golden locket and – oh!

Harry’s eyes widened and he opened the cupboard. It was a lighter!

A small and Muggle-looking one, sitting very happily right next to the locket. Harry reached in and took the lighter out. As he did, his fingers brushed the locket and a shiver ran through his spine.

Huh. Weird.

He looked down at the lighter and flicked it on. In the next second, a happy flame danced on the tip. The boy smiled and closed the cupboard. He had what he wanted.

Soon enough, the fireplace was lit. He threw in a handful of Floo Powder and the flames turned green. Harry stared at it for a second, thinking about how similar the colour was to the one of the Killing Curse – but it was better not to think about that.

He looked down at the letter. Alright, then.

He took a deep breath and said. “Voldemort’s manor in Little Hangleton.”

He hoped it’d be enough. He pursed his lips and threw the letter in.

The flames spiked up and Harry’s hands looked green in the light. Then it went down and the flame turned orange.

Harry blinked at the hearth. Okay. Oh-kay.

Now he just needed to hope this worked.

***

Harry sat up.

He was panting, his whole body coated with sweat. The boy looked around, his heart beating like crazy.

It was dark, and it wasn’t until Harry found his glasses, that he realized where he was. He was in his room, beddings pooling around his waist.

It was a nightmare.

It was just a nightmare.

_Fuck_.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. His breathing slowly evened out. Morgana…

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Fucking hell…

It was just a nightmare. He was in his bedroom, the moonlight was streaming in and Ron was snoring in his bed. Everything was fine.

Harry sighed and plopped back down. He couldn’t even remember what it was about. No doors this time. He hasn’t had a nightmare connected to Voldemort since he saw him. Well, okay, that was a lie. He had seen Cedric multiple times.

Not today, though. Maybe he had, but he usually remembered those dreams. No, this nightmare had already managed to slip away and all he was left with was the panic and fear.

He had been running in the dream – he was sure of that. He didn’t know what was chasing him, but he knew that it would kill him.

And that was all.

Harry looked up at the ceiling. Then he eyes skirted to Ron. His friend was sleeping, obvlivious to the world. Ron always was a heavy sleeper. Harry envied him a bit.

He sat up. There was no way he could fall asleep right now. He put his feet on the ground, feeling the soft carpet below. Then he stood up and walked out of the room.

He headed for the kitchen, hoping to find something to drink. Maybe he could snoop around the library. Not like he cared about reading that much – but there was a spectacular amount of books in the Black’s library.

Harry had seen titles upon titles that talked about things that he couldn’t even imagine. Sirius had told him to stay away from most of them since they were heavily Dark.

But something in Harry made him itch to at least take a peak. To _see_ what they talked about. Voldemort had told him to find out information for himself. Right now, he had a bunch of Dark-oriented books right at his fingertips.

And in the middle of the night, there was no one – no Sirius, or Hermione – who would hold him back.

He knew he shouldn’t – the books were probably cursed – but hell if he cared. He skipped down into the library.

Moon shone bright, illuminating the rows upon rows of books. Harry took a step in, suddenly feeling like he was an 11-year-old again, sneaking around the Restricted Section.

He reached into his pocket and took out the lighter. He’d kept it just because – now it proved to be useful. The tiny flame wasn’t as great as a _Lumos_ would be, but he had to do with what he got. Harry slowly walked around the shelves, reading the titles.

He passed a surprising amount of books written in French and Latin. He didn’t even know what he was looking for. Harry simply felt that if there was anything helpful, it’d be here.

He pulled a book out at random. It was small and thin. He opened it at a random page and then closed it again as he saw a description of a particularly nasty curse.

Okay, so maybe not this one.

He walked around. A large amount of potion books later had him wanting to leave – until the flame fell on a leather-bound book.

_The Magicks of protecting the Mind_

Harry pulled it out. It sat heavy in his hands, but the same title that slithered around the edge was staring at him from the cover.

He opened it. Particles of dust flew from the pages, but the book was intact. He skimmed through it, hope starting to flicker in his chest.

_Clearing the Mind, Legilimency, the skills of Occlumency, Deceiving intruders…_

He found it. He found a book that could teach him how to read minds – and protect his own!

He thought back to Barty’s words, back to the panic he felt when he talked to Snape. He clutched the book close to his chest, grinning like a fool.

_Yes._

With that, he headed for his room, hoping to study the book.

None of that happened, of course. Because once he reached the 1st floor, something crashed in the drawing-room.

Harry stopped dead in tracks. His eyes went to the portrait - fearing Mrs Black might start screaming – but for some amazing reason, nothing happened. The curtains around her portrait stayed closed. Harry sighed in relief.

There was, however, still the problem with the drawing-room.

The Boy Who Lived slowly walked to the door. Another – albeit softer – crash and then low muttering.

Someone was inside.

Harry put his hand on the handle and pushed the door open. The sounds stopped. Harry took a step in – and found the source of the sounds immediately.

The room was dark, just like the rest of the house. But even in the dim shine of moonlight, Harry could discern the small creature in the middle of the room.

Kreacher.

The House Elf was clutching something shiny in his hands. One of the trash bags was laying on the ground, it’s contest spilling out. That must have been the crash.

Harry blinked in shock. “Kreacher?”

The Elf went still with shock. Then he glared, pulling the thing he was holding closer to himself.

“Young Potter boy. Sneaking around and disrupting Kreacher.”

Harry blinked. _Right_…

He looked at the floor and then at Kreacher’s prize. He obviously came to steal it. Harry took a proper look at it – and realized it was the locket he saw earlier.

He crossed his arms, the book digging into his ribcage. “What is that?”

Kreacher hissed. “Half-blood taking interests in Kreacher’s possessions. Not acknowledging the importance of it. Throwing out family heirlooms with no care and hanging out with nasty mudbloods.”

Harry felt the words seep in. He looked at where Kreacher stood, looked at the locket in his hands – and strode towards him.

He didn’t know if it was because of the nightmare, or because of the bullshit Kreacher was spewing, but Harry was angry.

Something about seeing the locket in the creature’s hands made him _fume._

“So this is important for you, huh?” He asked.

Kreacher sneered. “Stupid wizard boy thinking he can come here and dirty the house – “

Harry wretched the locket out of his hands. Kreacher yelled out, panic widening his eyes. The boy simply stood back and held the locket high.

“Maybe you should think a bit before talking about my friends like that.”

The Elf stared at him in horror. “No – the wizard _can’t_ do this – “

“Yes, I can. I’m taking this – and if you try to steal it, I’ll be glad to tell Sirius what you’re doing in here.”

Harry knew he was being harsh – but he was too angry to feel guilty. He stuffed the locket into his pocket and walked out, leaving Kreacher in the drawing-room.

He quickly strode into his room and shut the door. Ron was still snoring.

He stood there for a moment, feeling himself calm down. Well, that was a lot more than he expected… He plopped down onto the bed and put his new possessions down.

The book seemed awfully interesting, but there was no way he’d be able to read it right now. He’d get to it the first thing in the morning, but for now, he stashed it into the bottom of his trunk. Something told him it’d be better if Ron wasn’t to find it.

Then his glance fell on the locket. Now, why was this so important for Kreacher, huh?

He turned it around. It seemed normal enough. Gold – or maybe bronze? – with a single carving of a small snake. It looked small and insignificant and yet –

And yet it called to him. This was the thing he felt in the drawing-room – this was the thing that sung to him.

It made little sense.

He turned it around once more. Then he shrugged and put it on. It was just a locket, right?

Right?

***

The next morning, Harry woke up to both Fred and George poking their heads in.

“Hey, Harry,”

“Good morning,”

“How are you doing?”

Ron groaned. “Don’t you two know how to _knock?_”

“No one asked you, Ronnikins.”

Their brother pushed his head under the pillow and went back to sleep.

Harry sat up. “Hey… did something happen?”

The twins exchanged grins. “Not yet.”

“We just came to tell you,”

“That you really shouldn’t eat the pudding.”

Harry blinked. “Um… okay. Thanks.”

Fred saluted. “Gotcha!”

“Bye!”

Then they were gone.

Harry stood up and headed for the bathroom. One thing was certain – he wasn’t going to eat the pudding. Ron might not be so lucky… oh, well.

He stuck his toothbrush into his mouth when he looked into the mirror for the first time. His reflection grinned at him.

He yelped and stumbled away in shock. The toothbrush fell to the ground.

The face staring at him wasn’t _his._

But he knew it. He knew it so well.

Something _hot_ touched his chest. He looked down and realized with a jolt that the locket he got last night was still on his throat. It was heating up. He stared at the mirror and felt like fainting.

The reflection smirked, like if it was laughing at him. Harry felt frozen in place. He could do no more than clutch the locket and stare as his reflection leaned closer.

“Harry Potter,” Tom Riddle smiled from the mirror, “how lovely to finally meet you.”

Oh, he was fucked.

He was _so_ fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you should know by now, I am evil :D  
HA!  
Bet you didn't expect that... hehehehe. Or if you did, kudos for you! Harry is an oblivious idiot, but... well... good that he finally found the locket :D  
I had so much fun writing this, ahhhh.  
I hope you guys enjoyed this and I hope you're all staying safe and healthy! We'll get through this pandemic together.  
I have some good news too! I wrote a [ Good Omens one-shot! ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23530771) So go check it out!  
I hope you liked it and I'm sorry for any mistakes.  
Sti


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready because this one is a long one. Like... 6k words long one. But it was so much fun to write, that I couldn't help myself.  
I have... SO much to talk to you about.
> 
> For one, we somehow breached 2500 kudos and I haven't noticed? Like?? Guys??? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AHHHHHHHHHH.
> 
> For two, have you guys seen A Very Potter Musical? I'm sure you have, but I just adore Starkids so much and am completely obsessed with everything they make, so... whoa.
> 
> For three (i told you it's going to be a lot) do any of you watch Super Carlin Brothers? They started this theory-series on Dumbledore's 'big plan' and I find it quite interesting. If you've seen it, what do you think about it? And what do you think about Dumbledore as a whole?
> 
> And for four (last one, I promise), I think I've figured out the entire plot-line of this, including how it's going to end, and... yeah. You're in for a wiiiiillllllllllllddddd(e) ride :D
> 
> LOVE you guys, thank you for your amazing support!
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes and I hope you liked it,
> 
> Sti

“Okay,” Harry said slowly, “what the actual fuck?”

Tom Riddle let out a snort. “How eloquent.”

The Boy Who Lived could only stare. Voldemort was in his mirror. Somehow. Just standing there. And… um, hello, wasn’t that kind of really, really, _really weird and **not supposed to happen?**_

The reflection saved him by talking again. “Don’t look so startled on my behalf. I don’t bite.”

Harry took a slow step closer. “Great to know… um, you know, Voldemort, you could have just written a letter.”

At this, the man blinked. “I don’t see how that would be possible.”

“Why not? Don’t you have an owl?”

The reflection stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he nodded his head. “Ah, I see,”

Harry blinked. “What do you see?” _And could someone please explain what’s going on?_

“Harry, while it pleases me to know you’re somehow in contact with my counterpart, I’m not him. I don’t have a corporeal body. I’m in the locket.”

He stared. Then stared some more. Tom Riddle patiently gazed back.

Harry slowly looked down at the locket. It was still warm, but not hot, just pulsing with soft heat. He looked back at the mirror. Then at the locket. Then back at the mirror.

Either this was just as weird as it seemed, or Harry was an idiot. “You’re… in the locket?”

He thought this… locket-version of Voldemort might get angry with him for being so shocked, but he didn’t look angry. He chuckled. “Yes, Harry. I’m… what you could consider a memory, perhaps. Stocked into this locket. For protection.”

And, oh. Oh. _Oh._

Harry truly _was_ an idiot.

“You’re like the diary. You’re a piece of Voldemort. But…” he looked down at the locket, “he said he reabsorbed objects like you.”

The reflection seemed genuinely surprised by this. “He did? Interesting… but then again, I’m afraid he didn’t know I was here. However,” he suddenly clapped his hands, making Harry’s eyes widen a bit, “this is quite peculiar. Tell me, Harry Potter, how come the saviour of the Light is close enough to my main part, to know these things?”

The man leaned forward, his eyes piercing into Harry’s. And it was now, with a jolt, that Harry realized they weren’t red.

This Tom Riddle looked different. Still pale and lean and black-haired and charming (_shut up)_, but younger, something boyish still painting his cheeks. (As if Harry needed more reasons to be attracted to this man, argh.)

The most prominent change though was in the eyes. They were dark, so dark Harry wasn’t certain what colour they even were, but it was a long and far cry from the piercing crimson that had haunted Harry since the night of the graveyard.

“Hold up,” he said, his brain deciding to start working again, “you can’t just interrogate me right from the start. I didn’t even know what you were ‘till this moment. Why should I trust you?”

“Clever. I’ve heard people say you were a Gryffindor. Have I misheard?”

Harry blinked. “What? No, I’m in Gryffindor.”

The reflection sighed. “Oh, well. What a shame. I’m certain Slytherin colours would suit you… but you’re right, of course. Why should you trust me?”

Harry opened his mouth. Then he closed it again.

The locket continued. “But you’ve met the diary, so you know how I work – and don’t try to deny it. You’ve said I was ‘like the diary’, so you had to have gotten into some contact with it – long enough to understand how it works and to know I’m contained to this object.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I did. It possessed a student, opened the Chamber of Secrets, and sent a basilisk at me. I destroyed it after.”

That rattled the man’s confidence. He blinked. “Oh? You’re not going to destroy _me_, are you?”

Harry laughed. “Don’t try to kill me and we’ll be fine.”

The locket grinned. “Lovely. What I was getting at, is that… I have no one to tell, Harry. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to in years…”

_Years? _Harry felt his defensiveness dissipating. “How long?”

“What year is it?”

_Morgana_… “1995,”

“Ah,” the locket sighed, “well in that case about four decades.”

Harry stared at him in horror. “40 years? You were in the locket for that long?”

“Yes.”

Jesus Christ. That kind of solitude would draw anyone mad. Maybe the locket _was_ mad but just good at hiding it…

Anyway, he looked back at the mirror. Riddle was leaning against the sink, his attention focused solely on Harry.

“So you can see, Harry, I’m intrigued.” he said softly, “You must forgive me for my forwardness. You’re simply the best thing that has happened to me since I’ve got here.”

Harry touched the locket. It thrummed. “Okay, I guess I won’t throw you out…”

A beam. “Lovely. How _lovely_. Don’t think, however, that I’ve forgotten,” the locket lifted his eyebrows, “even if I find your evading tactics charming, you still haven’t answered my question.”

And here Harry thought this Voldemort might be different…

“All summer, I keep hearing about you - how my main part got himself a body and you were there to see it. How you’re the Chosen One. The Golden Boy, the Light’s champion. The Boy Who Lived.”

Harry scoffed. “What are you getting at?”

“All I’ve heard this summer is how you and Lord Voldemort are constantly at each other’s throats and _yet_ you wouldn’t mind him writing to you. You know about my… _objects._ You’re not running straight to Dumbledore with me. So what happened? What did you do, Harry?”

Riddle’s eyes gleamed. He looked at him like a predator would. And Harry… well, Harry did a very Harry-like thing.

He freaked out. “You know; I think I might just return you to Kreacher…”

He made for the door.

The man’s eyes widened. “No! Wait, please!”

But Harry was already outside the bathroom. He walked into his and Ron’s room, his mind running like crazy.

Of course, _of course_, he had to deal with a highly talkative version of Voldemort’s diary on top of _everything!_

_Harry, please, stop for a second, _a voice said in his head and Harry yelped in surprise.

The sound was unfortunately so loud that it woke Ron again. The ginger sat up, looking at Harry with groggy eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Ron, I just stubbed my toe,” Harry lied, making a show of clutching his foot.

The other Gryffindor yawned and looked ready to go back to sleep. Harry sighed. “Breakfast will be soon, by the way.”

As always, food made Ron pay attention. The teen let out a loud whine, but then he pushed himself out of the bed and trudged to the bathroom.

The doors barely closed when the voice appeared again. _Good, he’s out of the way._

Harry stiffened all over before the voice – Tom Riddle’s voice – continued. _Please, relax, it’s just me. I’m in the locket, I’m just projecting into your mind._

The teen stood in the middle of the room unsure what to do.

_I am so not speaking to voices in my head. _he thought and imagined pushing these words at the locket, trying to see if it would work.

And worked it did, since the locket replied. _Well, I guess you’ll have to get used to it. Harry… please, just don’t give me back to the House Elf. Please._

Harry had never heard the Dark Lord beg. He’s never heard him sound so… young and almost desperate. It was probably this fact, that made Harry slow down.

Alright, this had freaked him out, but… but giving the locket back to Kreacher just seemed wrong. Giving the locket to anyone, when it had consciousness and already guessed so many things _just from the few sentences _Harry had spluttered out in his shock…

_Alright,_ he thought and sat down on his bed, _Alright, I won’t. I’ll keep the locket with me and give you to Voldemort once I get in contact with him. How about that?_

The locket was pulsing with warmth. _Thank you. That sounds good. Would you mind answering my question then? You don’t have to worry about me snitching on you, I… have no one else to tell._

Harry sighed. _I’m sorry about freaking out like that, I’ve just never told this to anyone and you… well, you’re intense._

The shower turned on in the bathroom. The locket chuckled, his tone teasing. _Intense, you say? Why, Harry, did I leave an impression on you?_

The voice tingled in his head and Harry felt his cheeks starting to burn. Bastard.

_What do you want to know, then?_ he asked, trying to change the theme, _and also, how should I, well, call you?_

The locket pulsed again. _Tom. You can call me Tom._

Harry blinked. He hadn’t expected that. He didn’t think Voldemort appreciated that name, but it made something warm swell in his chest. Being able to call him _Tom,_ even if this was only a small part of his Soulmate…

Let’s say he hoped the locket couldn’t read his mind.

_And for what I’d like to know… I guess everything, Harry. I’ve heard so much about you and yet I don’t know anything at all. So tell me. Tell me everything about you and me._

He looked down at the locket. Tom deserved to know, didn’t he?

So he started to talk. He told Tom about the 1st Wizarding War, about the Death Eaters and the Order. He told him about how Voldemort came to kill his parents and tried to kill _him_, only for it to fail and turning Voldemort into a wraith while Harry became the Boy Who Lived. He told him about his 1st year at Hogwarts, about the Philosopher’s Stone and Quirrell. He told him about their fight in front of the Mirror of Erised. He told him about his 2nd year, about the Chamber getting opened and his fight with the diary. He told him about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the Portkey, the Graveyard, _Cedric._

He told him what kind of a monster crawled out of the cauldron and Tom replied with shocked silence.

Harry let him bask in it for a single moment, before he continued – with the morning of his birthday when Voldemort kidnapped him, only to change the entire game. He told Tom about the Prophecy then, about what it meant and about the Vows they’ve sworn to each other. And how eventually, this is where they ended up.

Harry had thought for a moment, if he wasn’t breaking the Vows when talked about them – until he realized that while, yes, Voldemort had sworn not to talk about them, Harry hadn’t done so. He had sworn to stay silent about the objects – and alright, he may have talked about the diary in front of Tom, but… wasn’t Tom a) in the known and b) practically Voldemort himself?

And seeing as he hadn’t instantly died, Harry carried on.

Tom remained silent for the whole time. In the end, he hummed, the sound sending shivers through Harry’s spine.

_Intriguing._

Harry lifted his eyebrows. _Intriguing? I’ve been talking for so long and you say one word? My head hurts!_

It did. Thought projecting, or whatever this was called, proved to be exhausting.

_I’m just thinking. This… is certainly a lot to take in. Are you telling me my main part went so mad he tried to kill a one-year-old, due to a Prophecy he had only heard a part of?_

Harry smiled. _Yes. You went bonkers._

Tom sounded exasperated. Bonkers? Bonkers_?_

_Yes. You became a real bastard; I can call you whatever I want._

The locket proceeded to sigh and Harry was sure he was shaking his head. _You _are_ a Gryffindor… _

Harry grinned, before sobering up. _But yeah, your objects made you go nuts. Voldemort told me splitting himself up into many pieces wasn’t good for his mental health. I wonder why…_

Another sigh. _I haven’t truly thought about the consequences of my actions when I made my _objects_. I was afraid of dying and that’s all that mattered. I haven’t thought making more would lead me to this path. Seriously. A prophecy? And I haven’t heard the entire thing?_

_Yes, _Harry nodded solemnly, _bonkers. _

_You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?_

Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. _Just a bit. But don’t think about it too much. He seems sane again. And if you were made 40 years ago, then none of what happened is your doing._

The locket thrummed with warmth for a couple of silent seconds. Harry curiously took it off, letting the locket hang before his face.

_Does the snake on it mean anything? _he asked when the light fell onto the little carving.

Tom seemed taken aback. _Harry… Harry, darling, that’s the Locket of Salazar Slytherin._

It shocked Harry enough to ignore the nickname. _Salazar Slytherin?_

_Yes. It belonged to my family for centuries. Then my mother sold it to Borgin and Burkes for some reason. _

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. _Why?_

_Need for money, probably… I worked there for a while. I was fortunate enough to find the women who bought it from the shop… _there was a pause, _she died._

The teen sighed. He wasn’t surprised.

He thought about retorting when the door to the bathroom started to open.

Harry panicked and flung the locket right into his bag. He quickly sat up, trying to look as if he hadn’t just been conversing with a piece of Voldemort.

Seconds later, Ron walked into the room. “Want to head down to breakfast?”

Harry smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

Ron motioned for the door. “Let’s go then?”

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a couple of seconds, I just need to get some stuff.” he hoped he sounded convincing enough.

Ron blinked at him for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Okay,” and walked away.

Harry let out a long gush of air. _Thanks, Morgana._

He dived down and pulled out the locket. Then he put it back on, carefully tucking it under his shirt. _You alright?_

The locket sounded amused. _Sure. But I’m curious. Why do you have my diary, Harry?_

The Boy Who Lived froze. He turned to his bag in horror. Because of course, he somehow put the locket into the same pocket that held the diary.

He whined. _Can you, like, forget about it and never speak of it again?_

Tom chuckled. _Aww, don’t tell me you’ve grown attached to it? That’s sweet._

_Shut up, it tried to murder me!_

_And yet, you keep it around…_

Harry let out a long sigh and walked out of the room. Tom stopped him right when he got to the stairs.

_It might be better if you throw a notice-me-not charm over me._

He stopped. _I can’t use magic. I’m underage._

_Yes,_ Tom said, _but you’re in a house full of wizards who use magic constantly. The Ministry won’t be able to tell. Plus, with the number of wards this house has, I’d be surprised if they registered anything at all._

Wards? Harry thought back to the Fidelius charm, Remus told him about. If Tom was right… did that mean he _could_ use magic?

He didn’t like the thought of getting kicked out of Hogwarts, but… well, there were no muggles around, right? And using his magic could help him a lot.

_Are you sure? _he hesitantly pulled out his wand.

_Yes, Harry, I’m sure. _Tom’s voice washed over him in soothing waves.

He held his breath. Alright.

He cast the notice-me-not spell as fast as he could. He slowly looked down. Nothing has changed, but Harry could feel the slight thrumming of magic running around the locket. For a moment he stood in the hallway, waiting for the letter from Ministry arrive.

But nothing happened. Tom was right – he could use his wand however he wanted.

_Nice._

_Thanks,_ he sent to the locket.

Tom hummed in response and Harry jogged down the stairs. Everyone was already in the kitchen when he arrived. He muttered a quick ‘good morning’ and sat down. His seat was right opposite Hermione, who sat next to Ron and Sirius. Harry had sat down between Ginny and one of the twins – from this angle, he wasn’t sure which.

On that note, Harry didn’t know _how_ he was able to discern the twins. He just felt like he knew – and often his guesses turned-out right.

He settled down and got himself some toast when he noticed a bowl of pudding in the centre. _Ah. The pudding._

He avoided it and idly listened to the conversation around. Tom stayed silent for the most part until Harry chatted with Sirius for a moment and the locket spoke up.

_He’s very similar to his brother._

Harry almost choked. _You knew Regulus Black?_

_Oh, yes, very well in fact…_

_Do you know what happened to him?_

“Harry? Is everything alright?”

The boy snapped his head up. Hermione was giving him her Concerned Eyebrows™. He realized he must have been frowning at his toast for too long.

“Oh? Yeah, sure, I was just thinking,” he lied.

“About what?”

“Oh, you know –” he started, when Fred suddenly cut him off.

“He was thinking about how he’s glad he stayed away from the pudding.”

_Oh, bless them,_ Harry thought as everyone turned to the twins.

Hermione frowned, staring down at the food she was just about to put in her mouth. “What do you mean, stay away from the pudding?”

The twins shared a grin. Seconds later, Ron jumped away from the table, shrieking like a banshee. He was holding a strip of his hair, staring it in horror.

Harry looked at him and immediately saw what was wrong. Ron’s hair had turned completely _green._

In the next second, so did Sirius’ and Ginny’s. All three of them stared at their hair in terror. And Harry couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.

The angry look on Ron and Ginny’s faces was just too much.

“Fred. George.” Ginny stared at her brothers in cold fury, “What the _hell_ have you put into that pudding?!”

The twins looked at each other. Then they slowly started to back away from the table.

“Oh, you know,”

“Just new products,”

“We needed test subjects,”

“But don’t worry,”

They backed to the door,

“It’ll go away in a couple of hours.”

A beat of silence.

Ginny slowly walked towards them and Harry was suddenly reminded of a prowling lioness. “Couple of _hours?!”_

The twins shared a look. Then they fled, both of their green-haired siblings following them, yelling and cursing.

Harry really tried to stop laughing, but then he saw the baffled look Sirius was still giving his hair and he was sent off again.

Mrs Weasley quickly stood up. “Fred, George! Come back, all of you!”

Then there was a crash somewhere in the house and their mother proceeded to sigh, before going to stop the ruckus. Of course, running around the house also woke up Mrs Black, so soon enough, she started to screech.

Harry calmed himself down and winced at the shrill tone. Sirius let out a long, desperate sigh. “There we go again…”

He stood up, walking towards the door. “Green hair,” he laughed a bit, “good prank, but,” and there he increased his voice so the twins could hear him, “You didn’t have to wake up my mother!”

And he was out of the kitchen as well.

Harry blinked at him and then looked around the room. Besides him and Hermione, it was deserted.

_Huh._ he thought.

_That was chaotic, _Tom agreed.

“Honestly,” Hermione grumbled, “couldn’t they have picked something else? I was looking forward to the pudding, you know?”

Harry smiled and shook his head. “That’s the twins for you, ‘Mione. But hey, you can eat it anyway.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And get green hair?”

“Yeah, sure, but you heard them, it’s only for a couple of hours.”

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes, “they said that, but they also said they needed _testing subjects._ I don’t want to end up permanently green-haired, Harry.”

She had a point, but Harry found himself shaking his head. “I don’t think they’d do that. They wouldn’t give it to us if it was dangerous. Do you know they warned me this morning?”

_They have, _Tom noted, _you seem close to them._

_Yeah, sure, _Harry turned his attention back to Hermione.

She blinked (people seemed to be doing that a lot). “Really? Why would they do that, that’s pretty unfair.”

Harry grinned. “Dunno. I guess they like me.”

Hermione acted affronted. “Favouritism.”

They laughed a bit before the screaming suddenly stopped. There was a moment of silence. Both of them stared at the door in anticipation.

“They seemed to calm down –” Harry started, when a loud _crash_ cut him off.

In the next second, Mrs Black was screeching again.

There. He jinxed it.

_You jinxed it,_ supplied Tom gleefully.

Harry decided to ignore him.

Their friends didn’t seem to be prone to returning anytime soon and both of them went back to eating. Hermione _didn’t_ eat the pudding, but that was her choice.

“Harry?” she asked suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it, of course, but you seemed troubled earlier. Is everything okay?”

He looked at her in surprise. So she wasn’t going to let it go, huh?

_She seems truly concerned,_ Tom hummed, _you won’t tell her about me, won’t you?_

_What? Of course, not. She doesn’t – she doesn’t know._

That earned him a pause from Tom.

_Do any of your friends know?_

Harry gulped. They didn’t. None of them.

“Harry?” Hermione fiddled with her hair.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. I – I’m fine, Hermione, really, thanks for your concern.”

She knew that wasn’t it and Harry knew she knew. He bit his lips.

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I had a pretty bad nightmare.”

She made a face. “Oh, Harry. I’m sorry to hear that. Was it about... Him?”

He shook his head. “No, surprisingly enough, no. I haven’t had any visions since my birthday…”

He wasn’t lying to her. His sleep had been peaceful for the most part.

“So, you haven’t seen anything?” she asked, “About what he’s been doing or planning?”

Why did that sound like something Dumbledore would like to know? Never mind…

He knew what the Dark Lord was doing. But he hasn’t seen anything in his _visions_ and Voldemort hadn’t _actually_ told him what he was planning, which meant his next words weren’t technically a lie either.

“Nothing. I’m sorry, I really don’t have anything useful.”

_You should have been in Slytherin, _Tom noted.

_Yeah, thanks for saying it, it’s not like everyone else including the hat hasn’t already done so._ Harry sent him the biggest eye-roll he could manage.

Tom laughed. _Even the hat? And you managed to convince it to put you in Gryffindor? Doesn’t that make you even more of a Slytherin?_

_Maybe. I don’t care. I don’t want to lie to her. I just…_

_Don’t trust her enough, that’s alright,_ Tom supplied, _you could get in pretty big trouble if the Order found out about your deal with my main part._

Exactly. And even if his betrayal was already done, he didn’t think he’d be able to stomach their reactions if they found out.

Hermione nodded, before finishing her breakfast. “Well, it’s good you don’t have nightmares… but you’ll tell us if you see something, right?”

He nodded and stuffed the toast into his mouth. He couldn’t be truthful about this one, sadly.

The commotion was still going on and by the sound of it, it wasn’t going to stop any soon. He looked at his friend and tried some small talk. “So um, what are your plans for today?”

“Oh? Nothing much. I wanted to learn some of the things we’ll be learning this year. With our OWLs coming, we’ll have a lot to study for.”

Um… what?

“Hermione, we won’t have our OWLs until the end of June.”

She huffed. “I know. Don’t look at me like that. It’s just that I’m studying for more subjects than you and I don’t want to be overloaded from it all. Plus, I wanted to also try out some things we’ll study in our NEWT classes, so I can find out what works for me.”

Harry was both in awe and horror at how thorough Hermione was with her preparation. “How do you even know what we’ll be studying?”

She smiled. “I asked Professor McGonagall. She showed me the school outlines.”

“You… read what we’ll be learning in our next years?” maybe he shouldn’t have been shocked, but this was a lot even for Hermione.

The girl let out a long sigh. She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Yeah, I have. And I know what you’re thinking now, but I needed to know what we’ll be doing. Harry, this year we’re taking our OWLs. And based on them, we’ll be able to pick our classes for our NEWTs. And based on _those,_ we’ll be picking our future jobs. I don’t know what I want to do and I thought if I took a look at what we’ll be learning, I might see which subjects might be useful for me in the future…”

_That’s a remarkably clever thing to do,_ Tom sounded shocked, _not even I have thought of doing that in my school years._

Harry stared at her. “You mean that if I fuck up my OWLs, it’ll stop me from getting a good job?”

She sighed again. “Exactly. And you can’t take OWLs from subjects you haven’t studied since your 3rd year, so consequentially, you can’t take your NEWTs in those subjects, which means that if you haven’t chosen Ancient Runes in your 3rd year, then there’s no way you’d be able to become a Curse Breaker like Bill, for example.”

“That’s, that’s…” he felt his head starting to spin, “but that’s so unfair. How are we supposed to know what we want to do in our _3rd year?_”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. “Exactly. And you were surprised I’ve chosen all of them. I had to drop some, but at least this way I know which things I really _don’t_ want to do… it’s pretty insane… but I heard there are special schools you can attend to study a particular subject and make your NEWTs later.”

That was a lot. But yeah, no worry, it’s not like this hasn’t completely thrown away all of his certainties or something…

“But, hey, don’t worry about it right now. There’s still time. I think…” she tried to console him.

Harry could only shake his head. “This… would have been great to know in my 3rd year.”

Maybe then he wouldn’t have chosen the easiest subjects. What was he supposed to do with Divination?

_One of the things I always thought should have been changed, _Tom agreed,_ but Dumbledore doesn’t seem to have any problem with this._

“Yeah, I know,” Hermione shrugged, “but what can we do. Just so you know, there’s plenty of jobs that don’t require special classifications. Plus, as I’ve said, you can take your NEWTs in other subjects later, if you’d feel interested.”

They became silent after that, Harry’s mind running through this new – and actually not new – information.

He’d never thought about his future job because he didn’t think he’d survive that far. But with Voldemort not set out to kill him, it meant he’d have the opportunity. He’d actually _have_ to consider picking a job and studying for it.

What was he going to do with his life? Argh.

And how was he supposed to know what he wanted to do right now? He was _15, _for Morgana’s sake.

In the end, they stayed in the kitchen for only a couple more minutes, before Hermione said she wanted to study and Harry claimed he wanted to write a letter to Neville (sorry, Nev, _later)_ and they parted ways.

The house had finally calmed down when Harry walked into the hall. He found Sirius throwing a big black curtain on the portrait while Mrs Weasley chastised her children in a sharp, subdued tone.

Harry also noticed Fred and George’s hair had turned bright pink.

He quickly slipped away, before someone decided to pull him into this mess. So when he walked into his room, he was expecting it to be empty.

Except it wasn’t.

There was an owl on his bedside table. And it wasn’t Hedwig.

Harry adjusted his glasses. It was simply sitting there, tall, elegant and black-feathered. What was it doing in here?

_Tom? Is that your doing?_

_An owl? No. _

Okay…

He closed the door, before slowly coming closer. The owl stared at him with big judging eyes.

Great. Judged by an owl.

But as he came closer, he noticed a letter clutched in its claws.

He carefully held out his hand. “Is that for me?”

The owl threw him a harsh look, before releasing the letter and swiftly flying away.

How… _nice._

Nevertheless, he picked up the letter and beamed when he saw who it was from. Barty. He didn’t know if his letter was received and he honestly wasn’t sure how Barty would reply. The owl was a nice surprise.

Apart from the fact that it flew away…

_Is that one of your friends? _the locket asked.

Harry snorted and sat down. _No, definitely not. Barty Crouch Jr is one of your Death Eaters but I guess you never got to meet him. _

Tom laughed. Harry noted it was a nice laugh – a warm and genuine one. He had a really nice voice…

_Pen-paling with my followers? Aww, that’s sweet of you._

Harry flushed. _Stop teasing me, or I _will_ return you to Kreacher._

Tom laughed again and Harry tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. Instead, he focused on the letter.

He sat down on his bed. As he opened the envelope, three pieces of parchment fell out. Harry blinked and picked them up. One of them was completely blank. The other two seemed to be letters. One from Barty and a shorter one from…

_Look, Tom, _he said, _your older-self wrote to me._

The locket warmed in confusion.

Harry picked up the letter from Barty and started to read.

_Kiddo,_

_Hi. Thanks for writing! I honestly didn’t think you would, but I’m glad you did. I’m lonely._

_I don’t want to tell you that I told you so, but… **I told you so.**_ _It doesn’t surprise me they found you this quickly, but all that matters is that you’re okay. I hope you are. If not, the offer still stands, ey?_

_Honestly? It doesn’t surprise me they keep things from you. I’m sure they wish to ‘protect’ you through this, but we all know they’ll send you straight into battle when the time comes. Dumbledore tends to be like that._

_You have some interesting questions. Thanks for you I’m super intelligent so I **can answer them, look at me ha!**_

_(Okay, okay, I’ll stop)_

_The Greengrass family has always been neutral and while they are Grey in magic, they never joined us in the first war. But when the Dark Lord came to them with his new plan, they agreed. So, yes, Unspeakable Greengrass in on our side. He was also invited into the Order so he serves as a spy to our cause. I’m sure you know Snape is also a spy… except my Lord doesn’t find him very trustworthy, so Greengrass is a good substitute. At this point, only you, me and the Dark Lord know about Greengrass. So don’t talk about this, okay?_

_His job is to make the Order think we don’t have the Prophecy and that is the state we **want **and **need** to stay in, so… like, don’t tell them this? _

_For Regulus Black… Harry, I’m sorry. I went to school with him and we were friends. We joined our Lord at the same time. But Reg, he… well, I don’t really know what happened. When we were in our 7th year, he started to act weird. Jumping at everything, barely sleeping…_

_And then he just disappeared._

_If I knew where he was or what happened, I’d tell you, but… I have no idea. Neither does the Dark Lord. Reg’s Dark Mark has stopped working as well, so it’s safe to assume he’s probably dead._

_Also, applause for the way you sent the letter. I appreciate your creativity. Owls aren’t the safest – but don’t worry, my Lord found a way to communicate! _

_Hope you’re doing great. Write me back even if you just want to chat, I’m sorely missing any and all human contact – not to say the Dark Lord isn’t great to talk to but it’s not my place, not really. _

_Have a great day, kiddo!_

_Bartemius Crouch Jr (AKA the better one)_

It was a long letter but Harry had never read anything faster. Barty was charming as ever.

So Harry was right about Greengrass. And something in him felt selfishly happy to hear that Voldemort didn’t trust Snape. And once more, no news about Regulus Black. But wait…

_Tom? You said you know what happened to Regulus. _

The locket sounded offended. _Yeah. Yeah, I do know what happened to that traitor._

Harry frowned. _Traitor?_

_Well, how did you think the locket got into this house?_

He looked down at the locket. _What happened?_

Tom sighed. His voice had an irritated edge to it. _Dear Regulus Black had decided to turn his back on me. It was only a few years after he joined our cause. My older-self decided to move me to a safer location and used Black’s House Elf to test it. The Elf was supposed to die, but somehow he got back and rattled to Black. Black decided to betray us and tried to destroy me but died when getting the locket out of its protections. He gave me to the Elf and that creature has been trying to destroy me ever since._

Harry’s eyes widened. _Kreacher? Kreacher has been trying to destroy you?_

_Yes._ Tom growled.

Okay… okay.

Okay, that was a lot. Well, he finally found out what happened to Sirius’ brother. It was sad to hear he was dead, but…

_Regulus sounds like a cool guy,_ he decided.

** _Excuse me???_ **

Harry couldn’t help but laugh. _Oh, c’mon. Voldemort was already mad by that point, I think, and frankly, doing what Regulus did takes guts. Sure, you’re mad, stay mad, I don’t care._

Tom huffed but that was all.

The Boy Who Lived let out a soft sigh. _Are you sure he’s dead?_

_Yes, Harry. He drowned._

Oh, well…

But – forget Regulus Black. There was another letter waiting for him.

He laid Barty’s aside and picked up the shorter one. Seeing Tom’s elegant handwriting made his heart jump. And oh yeah, the butterflies said Hi again.

Yeah, Harry was really fucked…

_Potter,_

_While it’s interesting you and Barty took up writing to each other, I don’t exactly appreciate random letters jumping at me from my fireplace. But I am glad you didn’t use your owl – you could put yourself in real danger if the Ministry found it. Good thinking._

_But for these reasons, I decided to make it easier for you – don’t make me regret it. The blank parchment included is charmed. Barty has its twin. Write anything and it will appear on the other one. So be a dear and don’t throw it out, will you?_

_Try to not to die any time soon, it’d be a shame._

The letter was unsigned, but it didn’t matter. Of course, Voldemort wrote him a highly sarcastic letter. Harry couldn’t help but laugh. And also think about every single one of those tiny lines.

Voldemort complimented him. On his good thinking. He didn’t think Harry was stupid. And he thought it’d be a shame if Harry died –

Okay, what the fuck, he was acting like a 13-year-old girl.

He had to get these things under control.

He focused on the blank parchment. It seemed normal to him, but if it was charmed then it could be useful.

_Intriguing, _Tom hummed, _he must think of you highly to write to you._

Harry blushed. _You think so?_

_I would never write to anyone without either wanting something from them or replying to them. You haven’t written to him, have you?_

_No._

_There. He didn’t have to write anything. He could have simply told Barty to tell you. But he wrote to you. I think he’s interested in you, somehow._

Harry really tried not to blush even more. _Uh, how would you know? You’re decades younger than him – he might just be writing to feel good about himself._

And Tom laughed again, that warm tickling sound like dozens of melodic bells. _Oh, Harry, dear… he’s definitely interested in you and I think I know why. You’re charming, Harry. I’m glad you found me._

Harry gulped.

He was going to die if Tom didn’t stop.

_Curse that teasing bastard._


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you guys so so so much, ahhh!  
I've gotten so many lovely comments on the last chapter and I almost cried. You are amazing, guys. You are <3  
This chap is a bit of a filler at the start, but I do hope you'll like the 2nd half ;)  
I'm sorry for any mistakes and I hope you'll like it <3  
Sti

Harry soon found out Occlumency was hard as fuck.

Now, that was quite a harsh statement, so maybe he should rewind a bit.

Somehow, life moved on without a stumble, even if you had a talkative locket around you 24/7. It also moved on even when you started acquainting new abilities in secrecy. And it also moved on even if you were secretly conversing with a Death Eater.

Harry’s life settled into this new normal – a name Tom chuckled at – with him trying to pretend everything was just as it was before while carrying Tom around, writing to Barty and teaching himself Occlumency while everyone was asleep.

It… somehow it appeared his _self-studies_ were the hardest part of all of this. Because yes, somehow, hiding a dark artefact under a small notice-me-not charm and making sure no one knew about him writing to someone on the _opposite side of the war,_ was easier than learning a new branch of magic.

_Sigh._

He didn’t know how. The first few days after meeting Tom, he had to learn how to hide his reactions. He had been caught zoning out or reacting to whatever Tom had told him plenty of times and it was only due to sheer luck, that no one noticed Harry was hiding something.

By now, the locket became such a big part of his life, that he couldn’t imagine not having it around. It had been a tiny bit awkward in the first few days, before he figured out when to take it off and when to keep it, but they quickly got used to each other.

Tom seemed elated at having Harry around. It shouldn’t have been surprising with how little contact the locket has had, but Tom was a chatter. A big chatter. As in, barely-keeping-his-mouth-shut-chatter.

Somehow, Harry found he didn’t mind. Having Tom around was… well… it was nice.

Fuck it, it was _more _than nice. It was great. It was amazing. It made him glad he didn’t take the locket with him to the shower, because Tom talked a lot, and oh yeah, he had a _great_ voice and Harry… Harry was glad he didn’t take the locket with him to the shower.

But yeah, he wore the locket around, talked with him sometimes, sometimes just listened to Tom’s commentary and… and yeah, tried not to die every time Tom said something _waayyy_ too flirty for Harry to handle.

He was handling it, though. He was. Uh-uh…

Well, at least he told himself so.

Writing to Barty also proved useful – and fun. He had tried the parchment right after reading the letters and got an immediate reply. It warmed his heart to know that… well, that Barty was there.

Even if they just chatted sometimes. Even if Harry sometimes wrote to him only because Barty was the only person on this planet who he didn’t have to hide from. And also, Barty was… well, Barty was great. Snarky little shit, definitely, but great.

Harry didn’t know how to feel about drifting away from his friends, but after a few weeks at Grimmauld, he realized that while he may have lost Ron and Hermione, he had gained a lot of other friends.

There was Barty, no matter how strange it was. There was Tom who spoke to him daily and who, at this point, was closer to Harry than anyone else. And then there were the twins and Neville.

He ended up writing to Neville a few days after getting the locket. It was mostly to ask how the other boy was doing, but it resulted in them writing back and forth.

Harry knew the owls might get caught by the Ministry. It was unfortunate, but he didn’t know what to do with it. It the end, he settled on making sure he didn’t disclose anything important.

So life went on, Harry talked to his new friends – and talked a little bit less with his old friends – wrote to Barty, helped declutter the drawing-room, hung out with the twins… and decided to learn Occlumency.

Which, as he’d already said, was near damn _impossible._

Harry had started the evening of the pudding accident, full of motivation thinking this could be fun. He truly wished to learn it. But as he found out… it was not easy. At all.

The book gave a lot of information, not only about how to learn Occlumency, but also about what mind magic even was. It had its own section for teaching Legilimency as well – and also a bunch of mind rituals and spells which could help you control someone’s mind and actions which Harry gladly skipped.

It showed two ways to learn Occlumency. 1st was a lot easier and faster, but it also required a teacher and Harry had no one he could use.

This way also seemed more violent. As far as Harry understood, it relied on the fact that your magic learned to defend itself on its own. You just needed someone to repeatedly try to get into your mind while you tried to push that person out and somewhere, along the line, you built your Occlumency shields.

It also talked about how important it was to have someone you _trusted_ be the one using Legilimency on you, and yeah – Harry didn’t wonder why.

While it _said_ this would be a lot quicker and more effective in the practical way, Harry… well, Harry didn’t have to think twice before immediately discarding this option. He didn’t need _anyone_ poking around his head_._

Like seriously. No, thanks.

Even if he knew of someone who’d know Legilimency and who’d be willing to teach him, he didn’t trust anyone that far as to let them see into his head. At this point in time, there was _no one_, not _one_ person, who knew the whole truth.

Tom, Barty and Voldemort were coming closest to the truth, but not even they knew about Harry’s soulmate. The only person who _did_ know, was Neville and Harry still hasn’t told the boy about his deal with Voldemort.

So, really. Only Harry knew the whole truth and sometimes, it made him want to cry.

So, no. This way wasn’t for him.

The 2nd way seemed much more gentle, but also slower. It was designed for self-learners as it seemed.

There, however, came the problem. Harry had read through what he was supposed to do and thought it’d be simple.

All he had to do was meditate. The book described, how to protect yourself against mind attacks, you needed to learn how to clear your mind. Meditating could help not only with that, but also to help you organize your thoughts and reach for your magic.

It said it’d take months this way, but shields crafted this way were stronger. You were trying to reach a state where clearing your mind would be an instant and with a clear head, you could reach the parts surrounding your mind and create your shields.

So Harry sat down to do it. He meditated for an hour every day before he went to bed. It was going great.

…

It wasn’t.

For one, how the hell was he supposed _not_ to think about things? It seemed… illogical? Every time he tried, he could only hold it for a couple of seconds before he found himself thinking about something when he wasn’t supposed to.

He guessed that’s where the practice came in, but all the book said on this matter was to try and practice and repeat and everything was going to be sunshine and rainbows!

What an utter ton of bullshit.

Harry tried. He really did. He just didn’t know how. He turned to concentrate on his breathing and that worked a bit more. And, alright, after the few weeks of repeated meditation, it seemed to get a bit easier. He could immerse himself into that state of numbness for longer periods of time.

But it was the next part that utterly confused him.

He was supposed to reach for his magic.

And that was it. There was nothing else on the matter, except that he should _reach out for your magick and navigate it through your mind._

That was the only sentence on this matter in the _entire _book and Harry was not having it. _How_ was he supposed to do that? How?

He searched through the entire book and found nothing else. No explanation as to how to do this. The book just assumed you knew how to do that. GrEAt.

He asked Tom. And Tom had tried to help but it didn’t go anywhere. Harry couldn’t comprehend how he was supposed to just _feel _his magic and Tom soon lost his temper.

It was confusing. Tom suggested studying how it felt when he used his wand to make a spell and then focus on the feeling of his magic. Harry tried with little success. Tom had sighed and told him to meditate more.

So… Occlumency was a mess. But… _but,_ maybe Harry was being too impatient. The book said it’d take long. He just had to practice. And meditate.

_Urgh._

But he had to hope. After some time, he wrote to Barty, asking what he thought. Barty told him that not seeing any progress so far was normal and that Harry should take it easy, and focus more on clearing his mind than trying to find his magic core.

So in the end, Harry resigned himself to not push the matter too far and tried to keep up his daily meditating.

It was 3 weeks after he came to Grimmauld Place that another Order meeting took place and they _finally_ decided to tell Harry something.

That something being information so slim Harry had almost burst out laughing. If it wasn’t for Voldemort, _VOLDEMORT_, he’d be completely in the dark. Because the things the Order told him, one night after dinner, were so vague and obscure, Harry would have no idea what was going on.

It was sad to see how long it took for them – and how much Harry had to push until they _finally, finally_, **_FINALLY_, **decided to give the Boy Who Lived any information.

Harry had asked about the Order after their meeting ended (and after Harry, the twins, Ginny and Ron with Hermione dutifully eavesdropped on the whole thing) and Sirius described what the Order of the Phoenix was and its functions.

This information wasn’t very new to Harry – and wouldn’t be even if he hadn’t had a surprise visit – *cough* kidnapping *cough* – from Voldemort during the summer – but when he asked what Voldemort’s plans were, Sirius told him the Dark Lord was after something. Some object he didn’t have back in the 1st war. Some kind of a weapon.

Harry knew enough to understand they meant the Prophecy. Sirius talked about how the Order was trying to protect it and/or get to it before Voldemort did. But he, nor any of the others, told him it was the Prophecy. They let Harry assume it was a weapon.

And that was it.

Also, they _still_ haven’t told him about the stalking. Not even when Harry pointedly asked about how the Order knew he was in Leaky Cauldron. The answer he got was Tonks’ hair turning a shameful shade of orange and a reply that: “they were looking out for him,”

Hm…

Yeah…

Right…

During the conversation Tom had sighed 18 times. Harry knew because he counted.

He was about to press more – after all, he _should_ be told about the Prophecy. Especially when it concerned _him!_ – but then Mrs Weasley said that was enough and he was too young for this.

Thanks, Mrs Weasley, it’s not like Dumbledore doesn’t expect me to go fight a Dark Lord or something…

And that was the end of it. Even when he tried to lure out some information from Sirius later, the man simply sighed and told him he couldn’t tell him more – but that they’ll tell him the important bits.

Because, as Tom said, _A Prophecy about you and the most dangerous wizard in Britain that only _you_ or he can get, and that he wants so much he might use you to get it for him wasn’t all that important, right?_

And wasn’t it even more ironic that Voldemort had done just that? And none of them had any clue?

He tried not to be angry at them. These people were fighting a war and they were only doing what they thought was best. It made Harry feel worthless, though.

It made him feel like a kid. An unimportant kid that no one deemed important enough to be told these things.

It stung to think _Voldemort_ regarded him more as an equal than they did.

But in the end, he just kept his mouth and his thoughts to himself and kept going on, as if he knew nothing more than he was supposed to.

He was, somehow, spending more and more time with the twins. He often found himself in their room, helping them with some of their prank ideas or just chatting.

About a week after he started to wear Tom around, they cornered him about it.

He had just gotten into their room when they both asked him what was he wearing around his neck.

He immediately focused on the notice-me-not charm but found it still in place. So he played innocent.

“What are you talking about?”

They lifted their eyebrows. “Really, Harry?”

“You thought we wouldn’t notice,”

“That we’re trying _not to notice_ the area around your neck?”

Fred grinned at him. “We know you’ve got a notice-me-not charm on there.”

“We just want to know what you’re hiding.” George nodded.

Harry stared at them. Why him?

How did they notice the charm? That – that… was that even possible?

But they were looking at him with knowing eyes and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this one. So he slowly put the charm down.

“I found this locket in the drawing-room. And, well, you know how Sirius is, he’d probably want me to return it, because of Dark Magic, and blah, blah, blah…”

Did he sound convincing?

The twins shared a smile. In the next second, they had sandwiched him _again _(honestly, what was their deal, why did they always have to do this-).

“Awww, Harrikins,”

“You could have just said so,”

“The charm’s nifty,”

“We’re proud.”

He stepped away from them, half-laughing. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

And they swore they wouldn’t and that was it.

So life in N°12 continued to flow in this strange new rhythm and Harry found himself in the middle of it.

Things have changed. For better or worse? Who knew.

He didn’t mind it, though.

***

Tom put the feather down, closing the cap on the ink bottle.

There. Done. He let the parchment dry, small smile tugging at his lips.

The Dark Lord let his eyes skim over the letter he just wrote and couldn’t help the hiss of laughter that trespassed his lips.

It was a bunch of lies. One of the most pathetic sob-stories he’s ever heard. And everyone was going to fall for it.

The Minister certainly wasn’t expecting to get a heartfelt letter from a certain poor Marvolo Slytherin – the unknown son of Lord Voldemort, a man who wished to make things right and prove to everyone he was not like his father.

He laughed again, shaking his head. It sounded so stupid, but he knew the wizarding community would believe it. A good looking young man with heart-breaking background hoping to do good for magical Britain?

He could already see the headlines in the Daily Prophet. He might even get into the Witch Weekly Magazine.

He bit into his fist trying to stifle his sniggers. _Oh, dear._

His laughter woke up Nagini. His snake lifted her head up from where she’d been sleeping. _“What’s the matter, Master?”_

He switched into Parseltongue without thinking. _“Nothing, dear, I’m just pleased.”_

She blinked at him with her vertical eyelids. _“Master will succeed and bring me more rats?”_

Tom sighed and fondly rolled his eyes. _“Darling, I gave you Pettigrew just a week ago.”_

_“Yes,”_ she hissed, _“a week ago. Still don’t know why you didn’t give him to me sooner, Master.”_

Tom rolled his eyes again. He liked Nagini, but sometimes she annoyed the hell out of him. About a week ago, he had finally acquiesced to her whining and let her have her way with the annoying rat.

Pettigrew had been irritating him ever since he got his sanity back. He did, however, decide to use the man’s abilities to the most before getting rid of him.

Pettigrew might have been a snivelling excuse of a man, but thanks to his Animagi abilities, Tom now had the list of the next pile of laws the Ministry was hoping to pass. After obtaining those, he realized there was no point in keeping the man in his service.

And after Barty mentioned, Potter had told him that he’d honestly be glad if Nagini accidentally ate Pettigrew… well, it was enough for Tom to do it.

(He still wasn’t sure what to think about Barty and Potter getting close, but settled on ignoring it because he knew he might go insane if he didn’t.)

_“Nagini, if you want rats, just go hunt some.”_

She hissed something unintelligible and went back to sleep.

He shook his head before turning back to his business. It was quite simple, really. He hoped to infiltrate the Ministry and how better could he do it than with a new charming persona?

He’d have to be convincing – posing as his own son wasn’t going to give him much sympathy – but he had chosen this cover for that reason. He knew people would love to hear the story of a young man trying to fight against the faith that has been pushed upon him…

He snorted again.

Sure. People would be sceptical – at first. But the title of Lord Slytherin would give him many, many advantages and he could hardly claim the title without showing any connection to, well, _himself._

Tom took the parchment and put it into an envelope. He was ready to send it and give dear Cornelius Fudge a heart-attack when a knock came on the door.

Tom suppressed the urge to hiss. He forced himself to calm down, sitting straight in his chair and flicked his hand.

The door slid open, revealing a pale-faced Lucius Malfoy.

Tom gritted his teeth. As if he needed to deal with a _Malfoy_ right now.

He watched with narrowed eyes as the man immediately went to the ground.

“My lord,” he said, kneeling before him.

Tom bit his tongue in annoyance. “Get up.”

The man did, looking very pale, almost trembling. It irritated Tom, but at least he knew this man wouldn’t dare to go behind his back. He was not one for a normal conversation, though.

He needed more followers like Barty. Barty didn’t act like a spooked squirrel, at least. Bellatrix was never scared of him either, but… Bella was too insane for his new tastes. And also still in Azkaban, he’d have to get his followers out, wouldn’t he?

Malfoy was still silent. He tried not to sneer too much.

“What’s the matter, Lucius?” he finally asked, making sure to prolong his ‘s’ at the end.

The effect he wished for was immediate – Malfoy paled even more. Then he finally – _finally_ – started to talk.

“My Lord, I come with good news. I have spread the rumours as you wished. Today, the Minister himself asked me about Lord Slytherin. The news of your new persona has spread into higher circles.”

_Ah._ Finally, something useful.

He might have considered Lucius Malfoy quite pathetic, but he had his uses. He lifted his eyebrows, nonchalantly twirling his wand in his hands.

The man quickly continued. “I haven’t directly spoken to the Minister about you, so the news has travelled well. He seemed quite spooked but hopeful during our conversation. He asked me if I knew anything about Lord Slytherin, or about his political views. He seemed to hope you’d join his cause. At this moment, they’re expecting you to come forward at any moment.”

He nodded his head. “Good, Lucius. You faired well. Is that all you wanted to waste my time with?”

Now the man’s colour changed to green. “No, my Lord, of course not.”

Tom smiled to himself but didn’t let his amusement show. “Well, then?”

“I have heard some disconcerting news about Potter, my Lord.”

He raised his eyebrows, now curious. “Potter?”

Lucius nodded. “Yes, my Lord. I have only overheard the conversation, but it seemed the Minister’s Senior Undersecretary – an unpleasant woman truly, – was sending Dementors to the boy’s location.”

Tom stilled. He slowly put his wand down, his eyes bearing into the man in front of him. _“_Dementors? This _woman_ was sending _Dementors _at a 15-year-old? Whatever reason could she have?”

He sounded much calmer than he felt, but inside he was fuming. Dementors? At _Potter? _It didn’t matter what their past was, the boy had done nothing to warrant those creatures. Hadn’t he also heard the creatures had a bigger impact on Potter than they should’ve?

Also, he had a deal with these creatures. He didn’t find them pleasant, but respected them and had reached out to them. They were quite clever but went after what was best for them. He promised them the freedom they’ve lost when they got bounded to the Ministry. They had joined them for the food but from what he’d heard from their leader, the Light side wasn’t treating them well.

Anyways, he had a deal with them. They promised to serve him. They were essentially his to command now. And he had made sure everyone knew he didn’t wish Potter to get harmed. How did this woman dare to use them for such purpose?

How dare anyone lay a finger on Potter? He didn’t know why that made him so angry but the thought of anyone hurting the boy…

Nagini must have sensed his anger because next minute she was slithering up his calf and coiling around his shoulders.

He reached to pet her, staring at Lucius in silence.

“She hates the boy for saying you’re back, my Lord. It seems she thought this could… get him out of the way.”

He smiled. It made Malfoy take a step back.

“What is her name, Lucius?”

The man gulped. He had been in Tom’s service long enough to understand what this tone meant.

“Dolores Umbridge, sir.”

Tom tilted his head. “Alright, Lucius. You’re dismissed. Bring back any news you’ll get on what happens to Potter – and make sure dear Mrs Umbridge gets demoted. Do your work, talk to the Minister, you know what to do. I want her out of the Wizengamot by the time I get there.”

The man seemed to compose himself. He quickly nodded and then scattered away, bowing on his way out.

The door shut close and Tom let out an angry hiss. The lamp on his table combusted.

He let out a long growl and fixed it with a flick of his hand. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t as if he _cared_ for Potter, but this? This made him fume.

He had always felt this way about Potter. The thought of anyone but _him_ hurting the boy? Sure, back then he told himself he simply wanted the boy for himself – but that wasn’t the case now, was it? Did he still want to hurt the boy?

He had sworn an oath not to. And as he thought about it, he didn’t want to. The image of Potter being in pain made him snarl.

But why?

Why would he care about Potter? He was just a kid…

_Yes, a kid,_ supplied his stupid mind, _a kid that someone sent _Dementors_ on._

Yeah, right, as if he’d get this angry for any 15-year-old…

It didn’t matter. He didn’t _care_ about Potter; Tom didn’t care about anyone. He just disliked magical children getting hurt, that was it. Maybe this was the fault of that weird mind-link they shared.

He stood up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Anger wouldn’t get him anywhere.

But it did help with making swift decisions. He took the envelope and walked over to his owl. The elegant dark-feathered beauty hooted at him and took the letter. He watched her leave.

There. The Minister would get his letter soon. Then his plan could really start. And then, once he got into the Ministry and Wizengamot… then he could go about making real change.

And he could get closer to this Umbridge woman.

He scratched Nagini under her chin. _“You’ll get a big prey, darling.”_

She hissed in content. _“When, Master?”_

_“Soon, Nagini. Soon.”_

_Yes_, he thought as he stepped back to his desk, new plans already spouting in his head, _soon._

***

Two beings observed the hidden building.

The wizard they’ve searched for was inside it. Protected by their magic against fellow wizards – but if they tried, the beings could get through it.

They didn’t wish to, however.

They turned to their companion. Their harsh vocal cords ground against each other as they spoke.

** _Should we proceed?_ **

Their companion flew up and down in a show of disagreement. **_Our new Lord wouldn’t wish it._**

**_We’re not in his vicinity, now. _**it was logical to bring all arguments up.

Their companion stayed silent for a swish of breeze. Then they gestured to the boy’s aura and soul, the one they both could feel through the magic wall. **_His soul is not as troubled as it used to be. He seems at peace now. His two souls don’t bite on each other the way they had. We’ve seen it before, there he needed help. Not now._**

It was true. The youngling wizard’s soul was at peace, happily flowing around the other, smaller in his mind.

**_He seems to be joined by another similar shard that is in his mind. It reeks of our new Lord._** they said.

Their companion observed the house. **_The woman promised us food. If we listen to her, we could feast._**

They clicked their nails in a sign of irritation. **_You had not seen what the boy’s magic is capable of. We’d be sent away. The woman isn’t worth our attention and our new Lord would surely dislike our actions._**

Their companion stilled in place in even a bigger sign of irritation. Then, after a long silence, they floated again. **_You are right. He wouldn’t be such feast, now. Not like he were on the train. He’s not troubled, not like the ones we get in Azkaban. He’d be a feeble feast._**

**_Our new Lord seemed to help his soul. _**they commented.

And so, without needing to exchange further information, the two beings floated away, leaving the streets cold and empty.

They were going to feast but on easier and tastier preys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't expect that last POV, hehehe


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so... I guess by this time, we've all heard what's been going on with JK Rowling and I have some stuff to say.
> 
> I have already been pretty over this woman for a long time, but this just hit the nail for me. She's a TERF. Amazing. I've lost all the respect I've still had for this person.
> 
> And you know what, I'm disappointed at what she said, but also... well, I'm not surprised. It's sad, but there have been signs for some time and... I guess now we know for sure. 
> 
> I want to send all of my love to all of the Trans and Nonbinary folks who read my fic. Fuck JK. She's a joke and we as a fandom don't need her. You deserve all the love and support and all of you, no matter your gender, sexuality or race or whatever, are valid. 
> 
> So, yeah. I don't like her. In fact, there's plenty, plenty, PLENTY issues I've only been noticing now that are in HP and... it's sad to see your favourite world damaged by racist, homophobic and antisemitic undertones.
> 
> But, whatever, you know?  
:/
> 
> Anyways, I do not support the author, I DO give her the thanks for creating this lovely world, the stories and the books and all of the work she did for Fanfiction, but she didn't create the fandom and the community - we did. 
> 
> So let's enjoy this the way we can. But also, if you guys just feel like giving up on HP completely, then that's fine as well. 
> 
> I would like to hear your opinion on this in the comments and other issues as well :)
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is a roller-coaster, so enjoy!
> 
> Love all of you guys, we somehow crossed 3000 Kudos and I'm screeching <3
> 
> I'm sorry for any mistakes and I hope you'll like this,
> 
> Sti

The Platform 9 ¾ looked exactly as Harry remembered it.

Loud, overcrowded and bursting with people. He looked from one wizarding family to another, saw the owls, people in both muggle and wizarding clothes, the steaming red locomotive and smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.

The locket thrummed with warmth and excitement on his chest as if it were happy to be here as well.

And, Harry thought, Tom probably was.

He voiced his thoughts to him. The locket sounded awed. _It’s been a long time._

The Boy Who Lived smiled. It has.

Something bumped into him. He looked down and saw Padfoot, wiggling his tail and nodding his snout towards a secluded section of the platform.

He shot his friends a smile and followed his Godfather – currently more of a Dogfather – to the area. He had never noticed the platform had a resting area, but here it was, right next to the toilets Harry’s also never noticed.

He followed Padfoot to a small nook at the end, the pillars effectively hiding them from view.

Harry leaned against one of them. “Hey, Sirius.”

Padfoot gave a happy bark and in the next second, Harry was facing his Godfather – in his human form.

“Harry,” the man hugged him, “I can’t believe you’re already leaving.”

He patted Sirius’ back. “Hey, it’s okay, you know I’ll use the mirror. We’ll talk.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, let me be a dramatic parent figure for a moment, okay?”

Harry laughed, his chest swelling with feeling. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Yeah, I know. Me too, kid,” they pulled away, “but that’s not the only reason why I brought you here.”

Harry blinked. “Oh?”

Sirius reached into the pocket of his trench-coat – a nicer and newer one than the one Harry had seen him wear in his 3rd year – and pulled out a stack of envelopes.

_What’s on them?_ Tom asked.

Harry stepped closer, accepting the letters from Sirius. There were plenty of them, half of the envelopes with muggle stamps, half having been sent through wizarding means. They were all sent to Sirius, by…

“You know; I’ve read all of these twenty times already. I just thought…” Sirius scratched the back of his neck, “I don’t know, that you might like to see what your parents wrote about you because trust me, most of those are about you as a baby, but I guess I just thought, I don’t know, that you might like to see how they were back then? You know…”

Sirius shifted his weight from one foot to another a couple of times during his speech. Harry had never seen him look this nervous. He looked down at the letters, _letters_ from his _parents_ that Sirius was giving _him_ even if they were meant for Sirius and…

Dammit, he was crying.

He stepped forward and hugged him. Sirius froze for a second, thrown off by how tight Harry was squeezing him. And then he squeezed back, just as fierce.

“Sirius, I… thank you.” Harry sniffed.

“Oh, pup,” he gently patted his back, “it’s okay. They’re yours.”

Harry pulled back, wiping his eyes. “Sirius, this… I… They were sent to you.”

The older man nodded. “Sure they were. But you need them more than me, okay?”

Harry felt like he might start crying again. Sirius was the best. He didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to him.

He clutched the letters to his chest, mutely nodding. His Godfather smiled at him and changed back into Padfoot.

Harry walked back to the group and watched Padfoot trot over to Remus and start licking at his face. Harry chuckled.

_These two._

He pushed the letters into his trunk and walked over to Hermione and Ron. The twins have already jogged away to find their friends.

“I think we should go find an empty compartment,” he suggested.

Hermione made a face. “Oh, Harry… we’d love to, but…”

Oh. Right. He forgot.

He put his hand up. “You have Prefect duties. I understand. I’ll find Neville.”

They gave him sheepish smiles. Ron patted his shoulder. “We’ll find you once we’re finished. I’m pretty sure they can’t hold us hostage _forever._”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not some kind of torture, Ron.”

The ginger leaned over to Harry and stage-whispered. “It is.”

Harry laughed, feeling just a tad better. He knew they’ve been chosen as Prefects, they showed him their badges when they came in the mail. He didn’t mind – Harry was certain that if he had to deal with being a _Prefect_ this year on top of everything else, he might just commit suicide – but he guessed he didn’t realize he’d be alone this train ride.

Oh, well. What could he do?

He said his ‘byes’ to the Weasleys and the bunch of Aurors that came with as their protection.

Moody grunted at him – which Harry honestly expected – and Tonks gave him a smile so bright her hair lightened up a few shades. “Enjoy Hogwarts, Harry.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Tonks. You enjoy… Auror stuff.”

She laughed. “Aw, thanks!”

He gave Padfoot one last ruffle – and thankfully avoided his Godfather’s tongue, _seriously SIRIUS _– and headed towards the train.

Tom let out a tingly chuckle in his mind. _I have to say, being an Animagi has its advantages._

Harry craned his neck, trying to find Neville in this mess. _Yeah, I guess._

_You guess? You don’t think about your potential much, do you, Harry?_

He rolled his eyes to himself. _Not everyone plots to take control over the world, Tom._

The locket decided to be the snarkier one today. _Not everyone is as awesome as me, yes. This isn’t about my plans, Harry, you have _magic_ at your hands and you don’t wish to get better? See everything you could do with it? See how many things you could accomplish?_

_You know, if a certain wizard hasn’t been trying to off me for the past 4 years, I might have had the time to explore it…_

Tom stayed silent. Harry 1, Tom 0.

He might never admit it to the locket, but he had a point. Harry had been slacking off in his classes for the past few years. But, well, now that the threat of Voldemort was over, he might have the chance to focus more on ‘seeing how many things he could accomplish’.

“Harry!” someone called from the crowd.

The boy turned around and found Neville making his way towards him.

“Neville!” he beamed, “I was looking for you.”

The other boy stopped in front of him and squeezed him when they hugged. “Where are Hermione and Ron?”

“They’re the Prefects. So it’ll be just us this ride, I guess.”

Neville made a little ‘ah’ sound. “Okay. Do you want to go find a compartment?”

Harry grinned. “Of course. Let’s go.”

And so they did, Harry feeling much, much better than before. They walked through the corridor, passing one full compartment after another.

The whistle on the train went off and Neville and Harry almost fell on each other as the train drove out with a jerk.

Hedwig made an annoyed hoot. Harry quickly stabilized her cage, hurriedly apologizing.

Tom, of course, laughed at him the whole time. _Jerk._

They continued forward. After a while, they finally found an empty compartment – well, not entirely empty.

Inside sat a girl holding an upside-down magazine right in front of her face. It was so big that Harry recognized she was a girl only due to her skirt.

He was about to continue but Neville went right in. “Hey, Luna!”

The girl peeked over the magazine and smiled. “Hello, Neville. Hello, Harry Potter.”

Harry blinked. Alright.

They walked in and sat down opposite her. Neville waved his hands between them, looking slightly unsure. “Harry, this is Luna Lovegood. She’s a Ravenclaw, a year below us. Luna, this is Harry, but, um, you know that.”

The girl hummed. “It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

The Boy Who Lived smiled as well. “Nice to meet you, too. What are you reading?”

The girl put the magazine down. He could see her perfectly now – the dreamy look in her eyes, her long blonde hair and the wand tucked behind her ear. She showed him the magazine.

“It’s Quibbler, my Dad owns it. It’s very intriguing. Did you know Minister Fudge kills goblins and puts them into meat-pies?”

Harry blinked. “I… no… wait, he does?”

Luna nodded. Neville shrugged.

_There’s no way the Minister does that._ Tom quipped.

Harry ignored him. “So your Dad is a reporter?”

Luna nodded. “Yes. Not many people believe in his research, but he’s been getting really close to finally discovering the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.”

Harry felt a pang of relief. He’d had his fair share of experience with reporters and journalist. It was good to find Luna’s Dad seemed to focus on creatures, rather than humans.

He opened Hedwig’s cage, letting her stretch her wings. “Why don’t people believe him?”

Luna disappeared behind her magazine again. “Oh, not many people think Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are real. Or Nargles. Or Moon Frogs. They’re very short-sighted.”

Harry has never heard of any of these creatures, but hey, he wasn’t here to judge.

Neville cleared his throat and – was he blushing? “So, Luna, how is Rolf?”

The girl stilled behind the Quibbler. “Oh, he’s… he’s doing as best as he can under the circumstances. He’s had a bit of trouble recognizing me last time I went to see him…”

_Merlin, _Harry thought.

Neville winced. “I’m sorry to hear that. You and Rolf deserve much more time. He’s not in any pain, though?”

She sighed. “No, no, the medi-witches are doing what they can. His mind simply… slips away, sometimes. I’m thankful we can spend the time together, or, well, what is left of it.”

Neville nodded, his eyes sympathetic.

Harry carefully spoke up. “Luna, who is Rolf? If I may ask.”

Luna put the magazine down and gave him a sad smile. “You may. Rolf is my Soulmate. He had an accident half a year ago and unfortunately, there’s no cure for his condition. The medi-witches are giving him months at best.”

It felt as if someone threw a bucket of cold water over him. “Luna, I’m so sorry, that’s…”

“Yes, I know. It’s alright. I’ve had time to come to terms with it.”

He gulped. “And you are sure there’s no way to help him?”

“We tried a lot. The medi-witches tried a lot too. But the accident did something to his brain and there’s nothing to avert it. All we can do is make his last months good for him…” she trailed off, her gaze turning hazy.

“I can’t imagine how that must feel like. If there’s any way, I can help…”

“Oh, no, don’t worry, Harry,” she smiled, suddenly cheerful, “things will work out, eventually. For all three of us. Even with your Soulmate.”

She put the Quibbler up again. Harry gaped. He looked at Neville, who looked very pale.

“Um, Luna…” he said slowly, “I don’t have a Soulmate.”

She hummed. “Yes, you do.”

Harry stared. _How the **hell** did she know that?_

Did Neville tell her?

He looked at his friend, but the other boy looked just as flabbergasted. He started to quickly shake his head when Harry looked at him.

He’s never met this girl before and he knew for a fact that his Mark wasn’t visible. He’s put another notice-me-not charm on it this morning.

“Um… no, I don’t?” he tried.

“It’s okay, Harry, the Nargles told me. I don’t mind.”

Harry’s last two brain cells went up and died at that point.

And, of course, Tom decided to speak up. _Why, Harry, who _is_ your Soulmate, anyway?_

_Oh, no. _Absolutely _not, _he protested, _there’s no way I’m telling you that._

Tom laughed. _Oh, dear… So it’s someone I know and someone I have enough of a connection to, that you feel ashamed to tell me. And you hiding your Mark is telling enough. You’re not leaving me with many options, Harry._

The Gryffindor went rigid. _No. Just. No. I’m not telling you and you aren’t going to be thinking about it. _

Tom stayed quiet, but Harry could feel he was smiling.

For Merlin’s bloody sake…

He tuned the locket out, too panicked to deal with him and instead focused back on Luna. “Who are the Nargles?”

“Oh, they’re these tiny creatures that not many people can see… they steal my things sometimes. But they told me. And as I said, don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m sure both me and Neville are fine with it. And I wouldn’t tell anyone, even if they believed me.”

Harry blinked at her. “I… you won’t?”

Luna put the Quibbler down completely. “No, Harry. It’s your choice, just as it was mine to tell you about Rolf. We don’t choose our Marks. So it isn’t our fault.”

Harry slumped back in his seat. His panic has subdued and instead, he looked at Luna in awe. She was so different from anyone he’d ever met and yet… he liked her. He didn’t know _how_ Luna knew, but she seemed like a good person.

And the way she looked at both Harry _and_ Neville when saying the last part, also worked for her favour in Harry’s eyes.

Harry looked at both of them for a moment, processing it. Tom stayed quiet, fortunately. Neville looked out of place as well, but Harry once again noticed he was staring at Luna with awe.

“So…” he breathed out, “I guess all of us have Soulmate troubles.”

“Definitely,” Luna smiled.

Neville made a sound. “You two make me think I was lucky.”

Harry blinked, worried for a moment, but then Luna started to giggle. She reached over and patted the boy’s knee. “Aw, don’t worry. Someone will come to your side soon, I know it.”

Harry nodded, quietly laughing at the way Neville’s cheeks heated up. The boy was smitten. Harry couldn’t blame him.

It felt like the weight lifted off his shoulders. For once, he was with people who knew and who didn’t judge him. It felt freeing.

“So, what did you guys do during the summer?” he asked.

That started another conversation. The three of them chatted about their holidays, Neville telling them about his new _Mimbulus mimbletonia_, Luna talking about her creature-finding trips to nature and Harry telling them as much as he could.

It was nice. Harry had never been completely at ease when talking to new people, but he found out he quite liked Luna, right from the get-go. She was different, definitely, but she was the most accepting person he’s ever met.

Talking to them was so easy that for a moment, he forgot about the locket on his neck and what that locket might have figured out.

***

Of course, that didn’t last long.

He had to go to the bathroom some hours later and Tom spoke up the exact moment he walked out of the compartment.

_So, Harry, why do you feel so jumpy about your Soulmate?_

And Harry, because he hadn’t heard Tom talk in literal _hours_ – and he knew that bastard did it on purpose – jumped in surprise.

He ignored Tom’s <strike>gorgeous</strike> stupid laugh and growled at him. _As I’ve said, that’s none of your business._

_Aww, Harry, dear, if I’m to be around you as often as I’ve been this month, then yes, it is my business. Plus, I’m curious._

Harry groaned out loud.

He was glad no one was around at the moment.

_Tom. This is my issue, okay? I just… I haven’t told anyone, except for Neville. And now, somehow Luna knows. And even just these two are too many people in my opinion! Can’t you just… let it be?_

And Tom, Tom was an ass, so of course, he didn’t. _I would if you weren’t acting like a scaredy-cat for no reason._

Harry spluttered. _A scaredy-cat? A **scaredy-cat**? Excuse me, but I have plenty of reasons! You don’t know who my Soulmate is and you’d understand _why_ I need to keep it a secret if you did. But that’s it, Tom, this is _my_ secret, not yours, so leave it alone, would you?_

He made his way towards the toilets, feeling more and more agitated with each step. Tom stayed silent for a long moment and when he spoke next, his voice sounded quiet, calm.

_You never asked me about _my_ Mark. _

Harry halted so suddenly he almost bumped into the trolley-lady. He quickly apologized to her and continued, his anger turning to careful intrigue. _Why are you bringing that up?_

_Well, for one, I’m pretty certain you already _know_ my Mark… and for two, I understand you might not wish to share something this personal before I do too, so… well, I guess, the thing is, Harry… I don’t have a Mark._

Coldness washed over him.

…what?

_Tom?_ he asked, feeling the ground swing beneath his feet.

_Oh, don’t worry your pretty head, Harry. I used to have a Mark and I know for a fact that he still has it too._

Some of the tension uncoiled from his abdomen. He let out a gush of breath, still concerned. _Okay, but then…?_

_It’s not unusual. When I parted from my main part, I lost the Mark. I knew it would happen, I’ve seen it when I created the diary. At that time, I actually envied my _objects_ of not having to wear the… _Tom let out a chuckle that sounded anything but humorous, _burden of a Mark, as I used to think of it._

Harry started walking again, finding it easier to breathe. _You said you used to. Do you still think of it that way?_

He finally reached the toilets but found them occupied. He leaned against a wall and forced his heart to stop beating at such a fast speed, unsuccessfully, of course.

Tom’s voice was soft. _No. Not anymore. And I know he doesn’t either._

_Oh, how would you know? You and he aren’t the same._

_Maybe we aren’t. But I’m still him to some parts. _Tom said.

Harry bit his lips. What was he doing? Morgana… _What does Voldemort have to do with my Mark, anyway?_

The locket let out a pulse as if shocked. _Harry… I’ve graduated with 12 O.W.L.s and you thought I wouldn’t figure it out? _

He stayed silent. Tom sighed. _I may not have a Mark. But that doesn’t mean our relationship wouldn’t be as strong as the one you’d have with my main part._

Harry’s whole body jerked in shock. His eyes went so wide they hurt. For a moment, he stopped breathing.

Wha- _what???_

Out of all the ways he thought this conversation was going to go, this was not it. This was the _farthest_ away from it!

What – he didn’t mean – he _couldn’t_ – that –

_That’s – our relationship – you mean you – you have _feelings_ towards me? _he spluttered.

_And here I thought I’d made that _pretty_ clear with all the flirting I’ve been doing since I’ve met you…_

Harry had to admit, this wasn’t his greatest moment. He could have done something, or say something cool, or, you know, like, answer.

Instead, he gaped. His mouth fell to the floor and he stood there. And gaped.

Holy motherfucking fuck.

_I like you, Harry, _Tom continued, _a lot, really. So, yes, I do have feelings for you. Stronger ones than I’ve felt for… anyone, really. I’d like to be with you. That is, of course, if you’d like that too, I mean, if you don’t wish to be with me, then that’s completely fine, I mean – _

Harry snapped out of his support. _What? Tom, no, for Morgana’s sake, I had a crush on you since I was _twelve_._

For a beat, there was silence. Then Tom’s voice turned teasing. _Oh, Harry, have you?_

Harry put his face into his palms. _Oh, leave me alone… it’s not like I could help it, with how you look… plus, the diary seemed nice, you know, until he tried to kill me…_

Tom started to laugh and Harry’s mind was filled with the warm, tingly sound. _Adorable. But the shame’s on his part…_ his voice turned more serious, _does this mean you reciprocate my feelings?_

_Tom, of course, I do. I… you freaked me out when you appeared, but… Merlin, I can’t imagine not having you around, at this point. I-I like you. I do._

Saying it out loud – as ‘out loud’ as mental conversation could be – made a huge weight lift off his shoulders. He couldn’t believe _any_ of this was happening.

And then Tom was standing right in front of him. Harry blinked in shock, seeing him so close, so suddenly.

But then he properly saw Tom in the setting sunlight, saw the look of _awe_ Tom was giving _him_ and all thoughts of how or why he was here, flew from Harry’s head. All he could do was look at Tom and the way the light cascaded down his high cheekbones and found himself enchanted.

“It’s good to hear, Harry. I like you too.”

“You mean it?”

“More than anything in my life.”

They started leaning towards each other. Harry saw the way Tom was getting closer and closer, felt his heart speed up to impossible speeds as he realized their lips were going to touch soon and leaned on his tiptoes to meet Tom in the middle. They were going to kiss, right here, in this sun-lit train corridor, they were _actually going to kiss, holy hell – _

And then the door to the toilet opened and Tom disappeared.

Harry swirled around, his heart running like crazy. He found himself face to face with _Draco Malfoy_ of all people.

The Slytherin gave him an odd look, before sneering and walking away. Harry watched him leave and let out a long gush of breath.

_Holy fucking fuck, what has just happened?_

He stood there for a second, his brain simply not computing. Then his hands flew to the locket.

_Tom?_

_I’m here, I’m here, _the locket calmed him down, _he startled me._

Harry ran a hand through his hair. _Holy hell._

_I’ve never liked Malfoys. _Tom agreed.

The teen shook his head and turned around. There was no one in the corridor, for real, now. _So… you think we could continue?_

And Tom, Tom hit him with waves of sadness. _I’m not strong enough for another projection. I’m sorry._

He blinked. _Wait, really?_

_Yes. I can project myself into your thoughts and talk to you but creating a real version of myself takes too much power… _Tom grumbled,_ and here I had it all planned out…_

Harry pushed the disappointment down and finally entered the toilets. _It doesn’t matter, Tom. It’s okay. _

The locket made a disgruntled sound. Harry sighed.

Potter luck.

***

The sky has turned a deep shade of indigo when he returned to the compartment.

Ron and Hermione have already finished their Prefect duties and he greeted them as he sat down. Returning to the lull of the conversation was easy then. Easy, even if his emotions were a mess and he was constantly clutching the locket in his pocket.

Yep. Completely normal.

He came in just to see Hermione and Luna argue about the existence of Wrackspurts. Harry didn’t know which side of the argument he was on.

And soon, sooner than Harry realized, they were in Hogsmeade. He told Hedwig to go to the Owlery and watched her fly away.

All 5 of them – well, six if you counted Tom – walked towards the carriages and Harry stopped dead.

Horses were pulling the carriages. Well, not _horses_, per se. They looked like horses… _dead _horses.

Harry walked to the creatures, both awed and horrified at the same time. It was as if someone skinned a horse alive and gave it wings and also covered its entire body in leather.

_Those are Thestrals, _Tom supplied, _they’ve always been here._

He blinked at the creatures, wondering _how_ he managed to never notice them before.

Luna stood next to him. “I can see them too.”

He turned to her. “Really?”

“Yes. They’re gentle.”

He looked at the nearest Thestral and carefully put his hand up. The creature huffed a very horse-like huff and bumped its snout against Harry’s palm. He gently patted its head, melting inside.

Hermione stared at them as if they grew two heads. “What are you talking about?”

“The horses,” he motioned to them.

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. “Um… there’s nothing there, Harry.”

Luna shook her head, the wand managing to stay in its place. “The Thestrals have always been there. I’ve seen them since my 1st year.”

Ron blinked but then made an understanding sound. “My Mom told me about those…”

Harry looked back to the creatures. “How come they’re invisible to them?”

“You can only see them if you’ve seen someone die.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue but after Luna’s reply, her mouth snapped shut. She blinked at the Thestrals – which Harry realized must have been empty air for her – and looked lost.

Harry gave the Thestral a last pat and went into the carriage. “We should go.”

They followed without much complaining.

The ride to Hogwarts was quieter than usual, but then Neville’s _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ exploded and they had to deal with cleaning oozing goo off their clothes. After that, the mood lightened up a bit.

They walked into the castle and Harry fully agreed with Tom’s happy sigh. They were back at Hogwarts. They were back home.

And everything looked like it was going to go great. They reached the Great Hall and parted with Luna, who skipped to the Ravenclaw table. They sat down next to the other Gryffindors and waited for the Feast to begin.

The chatter slowly died down and the 1st years were sorted. Then the Headmaster stood up.

_I see his taste in clothes hasn’t improved._ Tom noted.

Harry couldn’t disagree. On the other hand, if Dumbledore wanted to wear those robes, he had all the rights, it’s not like that was any of Harry’s business – and frankly, Dumbledore’s wardrobe was least of Harry’s worries.

Dumbledore spread his arms. “Welcome, students. Welcome to Hogwarts. The lovely time has neared for all of us to come together again. I welcome all of our dear past students and all the new ones. I hope your new year will be as good as it can be.”

He gave all of the students a warm smile.

Tom grumbled something crude.

“Now, before we begin the long-awaited feast, I must tell you a couple of things. First, all of us must stand together, this year more than any time before. Dark times are coming, my dear friends.”

Tom’s grumbling intensified. _Yeah, right, ‘dark times’, I _hope_ Voldemort shows him some dark times…_

“And second, it is with immense pleasure that I can introduce the new Professor of Defence Again the Dark Arts, Anion Cartrein!”

The new teacher, to whom Harry had paid no attention before, stood up. He shot the students a charming smile and Harry finally looked at him.

And froze.

The man was pale. Extremely pale with snow-white hair – an albino, Harry’s mind registered. He also just so happened to have red eyes. And he seemed familiar. _Very _familiar.

_Harry,_ Tom exclaimed in shock.

Harry stared. Stared because he knew what Tom was about to say even before the locket said it.

_Harry… Harry, that’s my main part._

He watched the man sit down and zoned out on anything else Dumbledore was going to say.

His new DADA teacher was Lord Voldemort.

Oh, sweet Morgana.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't know how, but you're all super amazing, I love you and I couldn't be more thankful for all the amazing support you're giving me! 
> 
> I've planned to have more stuff happen in this chapter but it got pretty long, so you'll have to wait and see what's up with Voldemort until the next chapter.
> 
> I do hope you'll like this anyway, I included some fun stuff about the Horcruxes <3
> 
> Anyways, thank you once more! Enjoy!
> 
> Sti

Harry barely paid attention to the feast.

The whole dinner went over in a haze for him, his mind still reeling from the new information.

Voldemort was in Hogwarts. He was going to be teaching him. _Voldemort was going to be teaching him._

What in all hells was the man doing here? Hadn’t he told Harry he wished to pursue the political route? Hadn’t Harry spent 2 years being taught DADA by his followers?

Part of him wanted to march to the head table and demand answers but not only would that create a huge scene, reveal all of his secrets to the whole school and out Voldemort in front of everybody, but if Tom’s hunch was just a _hunch_, then Harry would just make a fool out of himself and possibly out _Tom _as well.

A mess.

That’s what this was, a huge motherfucking mess.

He had no idea how he even got Dumbledore to hire him – but thinking about it, he still hasn’t found the answer to that question when it came to Lockhart as well, so… sigh – but somehow, Voldemort became his new DADA teacher.

It should horrify him. In fact, he should tell his friends and get the Dark Lord as far away from the children as possible.

Except…

Except Harry didn’t _feel_ horrified. He hated himself for it, but… he didn’t _mind_ having this man as a teacher.

It was strange and scary to realize this, but he… well, he thought it might even be interesting.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

He had to speak to the man, as soon as possible.

But not today. Too many things have happened today and Harry… well, Harry wasn’t about to add talking-to-a-Dark-Lord-who-tried-to-kill-me-and-is-my-Soulmate-and-is-also-my-new-teacher-about-why-he’s-my-new-teacher to the list.

Tom kept mumbling to himself during dinner. He seemed stuck on his main part’s chosen name, repeating it over and over in a mix of desperation and hysteria.

Harry finally understood when the desserts appeared.

_Anion Cartrein._

It was a strange name. A made-up name. One that Voldemort made. Just like he made the name Lord Voldemort.

Because of course, _of bloody course, _the man had to make his new name an anagram. Of fucking course.

Anion Cartrein. Reincarnation.

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His Soulmate had a thing for stupid _anagrams _out of everything in the world. In the end, Harry chose to eat 3 treacle tarts instead.

Don’t question his life choices, please.

Harry had sneaked enough glances to the head table to not only find out that a) Voldemort’s new form was highly attractive and b) Hagrid was missing.

After he realized the 2nd thing, most of his thoughts fled to that. He asked Ron and Hermione if they knew why he wasn’t sitting at the table, but neither of his friends knew anything.

Harry just hoped the man was okay.

Of course, the peace wasn’t going to last long. Hermione and Ron took up their Prefect duties and led the 1st years to their Common Room.

Harry and Neville walked a few steps behind them. The new password turned out to be _Mimbulus mimbletonia_.

Neville was overjoyed. “Finally something I can remember!”

Harry shot him a smile as they walked into the Common Room. “Do you think the Fat Lady will also coat us with pus if we don’t give the right answer?”

“Oh, c’mon, I didn’t mean to do that…” the other boy groaned.

Harry laughed, patting his shoulder. “I know, I know,”

“Seriously,” Neville started as they reached the stairs, “I have zero control over the plant, in fact, I sometimes think it has more control over me.”

Harry turned his head to Neville, planning to ask him _how_ that could be possible and stopped looking where he was going, which ended with him barrelling into someone else.

He quickly jumped away, his eyes widening in horror as he saw Dean Thomas on the ground in front of him.

“Merlin, I’m so sorry,” he panicked, quickly helping the other boy up, “Are you okay?”

Dean accepted his help but quickly stepped away once he was on his feet. He ran a hand over his robes.

“Yeah, sure, thank you.”

… okay.

He watched Dean walk to the armchairs and sit down next to Seamus. Harry shifted in his stance.

“So um, how was your holiday?” he asked, feeling slightly out of place.

Dean made a sound. “Oh, yeah, not bad. Definitely better than Seamus’.”

It was then that Harry noticed the mood in the room. Everyone was staring at him. They have been since he’s walked in. And Seamus…

Seamus looked pissed.

Neville stepped beside Harry. “What happened?”

The other Half-blood looked at them for a moment. Then he stood up. Harry noticed the Daily Prophet in his hands.

“My Mom didn’t want me to go Hogwarts this year.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I wonder why…” Seamus rolled his eyes.

Harry looked at the newspaper. Ah.

“I see,” he narrowed his eyes, “your Mom believes what the Prophet’s been spreading, doesn’t she?”

The whole Common Room went silent. Even the portraits were listening. He felt sick.

_Use this for your advantage,_ Tom suggested.

How the _hell_ was he supposed to do that?

Seamus gritted his teeth. “Stop talking about my Mom, will you? And it’s not like the Prophet’s been telling lies, unlike…”

“Unlike?” he clenched his fists, “Unlike _who_, Seamus?”

“Unlike you and Dumbledore.”

Oh. Oh, wow.

He forced himself to not attack Seamus. It took a lot of strength. He glanced at the other Gryffindors. They were watching him, their gazes just as judging as Seamus’.

“Are you calling me a liar, Seamus? Really?”

“Well, it’s not like it isn’t true, with what you and Dumbledore have been saying this whole summer.”

Harry’s hands started to shake. “This whole summer? Really? Let me tell you something, I haven’t given _one single interview_ to the Daily Prophet or any other newspaper this summer. Not even one. All I did was say what I saw at the Tournament. It’s not my fault you’re all too scared to believe me.”

Seamus seethed. “You actually expect us to believe that fairy tale you made up? Really? That You-know-who is _back?_ There’s been nothing to support your claim, so, _sorry_ that I find it a bit hard to believe.”

“You think I made it up?” he couldn’t believe his ears, “You think I decided to say _Voldemort,_” the whole room flinched, “is back for _attention_?”

“As I said, there’s no proof, _plus_, Dumbledore’s been using your statement this whole summer to boost up his own plans, so…”

Harry’s voice turned quiet. “What about Cedric, then? Do you think his death was also just for attention? That, what – I killed him?”

Seamus froze. He averted his eyes, shame radiating off of him.

Harry pressed on. “You – _all of you_ – you’ve never thought it through, did you? Oh, yeah, this guy who already has everyone staring at him wherever he goes wants _more_ attention. And Cedric just died on his own. Great. If you still think I’m lying about Voldemort, then what? You think Cedric died in the maze and I just saw his body and decided to _use it_ to proclaim a guy that spent the last _4 years_ trying to kill me, is back, just so I could look cool? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

The students avoided his eyes. He could see Ron on the other side of the Common Room, looking pale and worried.

Harry let out a sharp breath. “I know what I saw. I don’t want Voldemort back either, okay? But you have to accept it – I’m not a liar.”

Seamus shifted in his stance. “Harry…” he seemed lost at words, “Harry, I… but the Ministry – even Fudge, he –”

That’s when Ron suddenly walked between them. Harry stared at his friend with wide eyes as the ginger crossed his arms. “You’ve slept with Harry in the same room for over 4 years and you believe the _Ministry_ over _him_?”

Seamus spluttered. “Wha- oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me you believe what he’s saying about You-know-who.”

“I do, actually. I believe him.”

The Gryffindors gaped at them. Ron took one of Harry’s elbows and headed towards their dormitories.

“Let’s go, Harry. This isn’t worth our time,” he muttered, low but loud enough for Seamus to hear.

Harry followed Neville right after them, leaving the Common Room behind and their classmates watching them in shock.

Their dormitories haven’t changed, except for being a floor up and undecorated so far. Harry found his bed next to the window and flung himself on it, feeling like shit.

Neville started to unpack. “I believe you too, just so you know. They’re stupid.”

_Although their stupidity might be helpful to my cause, I’m sad to see them treat you this way, _Tom agreed.

Harry gave his friends a weak smile. “Yeah, I know, I just… bloody hell.”

Ron nodded leaning against the wall. “I kind of want to take points from them.”

“Why not do it? You’re a Prefect.”

The ginger made a face. “Yeah… but it’d be from my own House... on the first day… plus Hermione might kick my ass for it…”

They laughed, Harry’s mood improving if only just a little bit. He hoped Seamus would come around. He also hoped he wouldn’t have to repeat the scene down in the Common Room.

It sucked.

He went to bed shortly after, ignoring both Seamus and Dean as they came in later. He pulled the hangings around his bed and laid down, silence enveloping him for the first time that day.

His hand unconsciously found the locket, running his fingers over it. He and Tom haven’t spoken about what happened on the train, too enveloped in other things – but Harry’s mind was reeling. What had it meant? Were they going to act as if their confessions never happened? Would they go on with their lives without change?

Would they try to move forward with each other?

He dared to ask, his Gryffindor impulsiveness acting before his brain. _Tom?_

_Yes, sweetheart?_

His cheeks heated up. _I… Tom, I just – I’m… _

_You’re tired, Harry, _the locket answered, his voice soothing like a spring wind, _sleep._

_But –_

_Sleep, Harry. You had a long day._

The teen let out a yawn. Then he gave in, curling up under the covers and closing his eyes. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

***

Harry woke up with his head in someone’s lap.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to orient himself. He wasn’t in his bed. In fact, he wasn’t even in the Gryffindor Tower.

He was… where was he?

He was lying on a sofa, the room bathed in dreamy pastel yellow light. He’s never seen this room before – the furniture seemed expensive and so did the rugs and perfectly posed china in the high wooden wardrobes around. And yet the edge seemed fussy. He found that when he focused on anything for too long, it became blurry.

The room was coated in Slytherin greens and silvers and it was after noticing this detail that Harry started to realize what was going on.

The hand in his hair – one that he only noticed now – ran through it in soothing circles.

Harry blinked up, finally realizing who he was laying on. Tom gave him a lazy smirk from up above, his hand not stopping with its movements. Harry wondered how the other man managed to look so attractive even from this angle.

“Tom,” he breathed out.

“Hello, Harry,”

“Where are we?” he propped himself on his elbows.

Tom’s hand disappeared from his hair. “In your dreamscape. I thought after today you might appreciate it.”

Harry sat up fully, turning to the other man. He noticed that unlike everything else in this room, Tom was completely in focus. _Real_.

“My dreamscape?”

“Yes. You’re sleeping, Harry.”

He looked around. “Huh… so, you made this?”

Tom shrugged, appearing nonchalant. “You could say that. I just projected this into your mind so we could um… talk.”

Was it just a trick of the light, or was he nervous? Harry let his gaze wander down Tom’s black-clothed frame, to his twitching hands and long pianist fingers and acted without thinking. He grabbed one of Tom’s hands in his.

Tom sucked in a surprised breath. Then he slowly turned his hand around and intertwined their fingers together. Harry felt them slide between his own and his heart made a little leap at the feeling of the other hand holding him both so firmly and gently.

He gave the hand a tiny squeeze and turned to look at him. “Thank you for bringing me here. Today was…” he laughed, voicing his thoughts from before, “today was insane.”

Tom smiled. “Yeah, it was enough for me to just watch. Glad you’re the only one I had to interact with.”

Harry pouted. “It seems pretty unfair. You did nothing while I did all the hard work. I’m kinda jealous.”

Tom’s smile turned sad. “It’s not all fun and games. Especially when no one can hear you…”

Harry squeezed the hand a bit tighter. “I’m sorry. You’re right... but I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Tom gazed into his eyes, “you are.”

Something strange entered the space between them. Harry realized their faces were close – really close.

“So…” his gaze flickered to Tom’s lips, “so you’re not alone, anymore.”

A smile. “Thanks to you I’m not. And I hope I won’t be again,”

They were inches apart.

“I hope so too.”

And then their lips were touching.

For a split second, Harry’s whole body froze. They were kissing. They were, actually, finally – _oh my god_ – kissing.

Then he closed his eyes and leaned into it, a soft sound leaving his throat. Tom’s free hand was suddenly cradling his face, bringing him closer and he went without complaint.

It felt amazing. It felt so good. It felt like fireworks.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands so he wrapped them around Tom’s neck, bringing them so close they were pressed against each other in every way possible. Tom used the now-free hand to entangle into his hair and Harry let out a whine.

It felt desperate. It felt clumsy. It felt just right.

They pulled apart soon after, both looking at each other as if they saw the stars.

Tom’s hair was slightly ruffled. Harry let out a breathy chuckle, a part of him still not believing what just happened.

“Wow,” he mumbled.

“Wow,” Tom agreed.

“Can we do that again?”

Tom laughed. They shared a kiss. And then another. And another.

And another for good measure.

They pulled away from each other, Tom’s smile_ blinding._

“I’m glad we finally did that,” he chuckled.

“Yeah. Definitely. Like, super definitely. Yes.” Harry was babbling.

Tom didn’t seem to mind. He brought his hand up, gently pushing the hair from Harry’s forehead. It took him a while to understand what the locket was doing, but once he did, he let him, leaning into the touch.

Tom gazed at his Mark for a quiet moment. He gently ran his fingers over the words in something akin to fascination. Then his fingers ghosted over his scar and Harry let out an involuntary gasp.

“How does that feel?”

Harry gulped, feeling the scar thrum. “Tingly.”

Tom caressed it again and Harry felt another wave of tingling pleasure. “That might be because of me.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, it probably is.”

“It doesn’t hurt though?”

Harry wrapped his fingers around Tom’s wrist. “No. It hasn’t since I got my Mark.”

Tom smiled. Then he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his scar. Harry’s eyes slid shut as another involuntary sound escaped his lips.

Sweet Morgana that was embarrassing.

He pulled away, hastily ruffling his hair. “I should have known you’d be fascinated by my scar. The other you, has always been fascinated by it as well.”

Tom grinned. “It _is_ fascinating.”

He rolled his eyes. Then he smiled as well.

Tom leaned back on the sofa and patted his lap in an invitation. Harry didn’t hesitate to lay down again, finding himself in the same position as before. Tom’s hands went right back into his hair.

It felt nice.

He looked up at him, then, wondering, “How old are you, anyway?”

“68.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, I meant, how old were you when you created the locket? Or do you also age?”

Tom made a soft hum. His other hand reached out to catch Harry’s and the teen squeezed it.

“Well, when I created this locket, I must have been around… 24, I think? It’s a bit blurry.”

Harry did the math. “You were in the locket for 44 years?”

“I told you it was about four decades… and few years here and there don’t matter in the long run.” the Slytherin looked away.

Oh… he looked at Tom, at _his_ Tom and wondered if Voldemort was also like this, those four decades ago.

This Tom went through much less than his main part, but… there must have been a time where they were the same. Did that mean… did that mean Voldemort might not be as bad? Or did it mean that Tom wasn’t as sweet as Harry liked to think?

He voiced his thoughts. “You say you have memories up to the point where you created the locket. How did it work? Did you two split? Or did you come to existence as the locket, or…?”

“It’s funny, you know?” Tom’s gazed turned hazy, “When I created my _objects_ I never thought I’d become them. I’ve already created a couple before I got the locket – the diary, the ring… but I thought I’d make it and move on with my life, just as I have with the previous ones. But somehow, I guess the locket chose my half of the conscience and I wound up here, while the _other_ half moved on with his life… It was strange.”

Tom stared at the air in front of him, seeming miles away. Harry played with his fingers, intertwining their hands again.

“I never thought what it’d be like for my objects. I just created them and that was it. And then _I_ became the object.”

“I think you’re the better half, you know?” Harry said softly.

Tom snapped out of his haze. When he looked down on Harry, his tone turned teasing. “Oh, am I?”

“Yep. I mean, for one, you didn’t try to kill me, so that’s nice…” he sobered up, “but I mean… you feel safe. I’m sorry you were stuck in there for so long but I’m glad it happened. It brought you to me.”

The locket blinked a couple of times. Then he smiled. “I think I’m glad too.”

They beamed at each other, settling down into the comfortable haze of the dream. It was the best dream Harry ever had.

***

When he got out of bed the next morning, Seamus and Dean were already bustling around.

Harry passed the sandy-haired boy on his way to the bathroom but didn’t give him a chance to speak, even if Seamus looked like he wanted to.

He stepped into the shower with a long sigh. He didn’t want to deal with this, he really didn’t.

His hands went up to his throat out of habit, but he remembered he left the locket on his bed.

_Tom,_ he thought to himself, his cheeks heating up as he thought back to the dream. It had been… nice. Really nice.

Okay, who was he kidding, it was one of the best things ever, he kissed Tom, he kissed Tom, _holy fuck he and Tom made out._

Did that mean they were dating? Harry _wanted_ to date, sure and he guessed that’s what happened when you proclaimed your love to someone and kissed them and they did the same to you.

Still, were they?

What if Tom didn’t want to?

What if –

Harry stopped himself there, deciding not to freak out in the shower. It was too soon for that.

When he walked out, clothed in his new school robes, the Gryffindor badge happily shining with gold and red, he found Ron still sleeping and Neville watering his _mimbletonia_.

And Seamus and Dean were both sitting on Dean’s bed and staring at him in silence.

He was going to have to talk with them, wasn’t he?

Harry did a very Harry-like thing and decided to act as if he was completely oblivious to them. Yes, yes, good plan.

“Harry,” Seamus said, destroying the plan completely.

The Boy Who Lived took a deep breath. Then he turned to them, putting a hand on his hip. “What?”

Seamus winced. “Okay, look, I just wanted to say, about yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he lifted his eyebrows.

He noticed Neville had stopped paying attention to his plants.

“I… I just, like, look, this whole summer I’ve heard what my Mom has been saying and you know I never wanted to imply you had anything to do with Cedric, it’s just, you barely talked to anyone about what happened and, I don’t know, I guessed I could _trust_ the Ministry, you know and –”

Dean put a hand on Seamus’ shoulder, cutting him off. Then he looked at Harry with a soft sigh. “What my Soulmate is trying to say is that he’s sorry for how he acted yesterday. You were right – it makes no sense. We know you wouldn’t think something like that up. It’s just… we’ve been scared. We are scared. If you are saying the truth, then…”

Seamus looked down on his hands. “I’m sorry, Harry. Dean’s right, because if what you’re saying is true, then… then _he’s_ back and I don’t want that to be true. So I guess I saw what my Mom and the Ministry has been saying and thought it’d be better to believe them, even if it doesn’t really make sense. You… I should have believed you from the start, so, I wanted to say I’m sorry and… I hope we can get back to where we were?”

Ron had woken up somewhere during Seamus’ speech. He was leaning on his elbows, watching them in silence.

Harry let out a gush of air. “Of course, it’s scary. You think I _want_ it to be true? You think I’ve seen Cedric die in front of me and thought, ‘Oh look, that’d be a fun story to tell at parties’?”

Seamus cringed. “I… you’re right. You’re right, that sounds horrible.”

He sighed. “Yeah, it does. It was. So I get it, I get that it’s easier to pretend I’m just a crazy teenager, but… I’m not lying, Seamus.”

The other boy stood up. He walked closer to Harry and braced his shoulders. “I believe you. And once again, I’m sorry for acting like a douche. Um,” he hesitantly held out his hand, “friends?”

Harry looked at his hand for a long while. Then he gave in and shook it. “Friends. Just think for yourself next time, alright?”

Seamus blushed. “I’ll try.”

With that they parted, Harry feeling slightly better.

Alright. Things weren’t completely fine between them, not yet. But they would be. Eventually.

Ron sat up. “Well, glad you sorted that out. Hey Dean,” he turned to the brown-skinned boy, “do you have any new unmoving posters?”

Dean rolled his eyes, but it turned out that he did and Ron and he started to talk about it, Ron still baffled by Muggle photos even if he’s been around Dean for 4 years.

Harry put the locket around his neck and smiled at his friends.

Maybe this school year would turn out okay.

Maybe.

He still had to figure out the thing with Voldemort – but he wouldn’t be able to see the man until his first period of DADA.

He went to breakfast that day with new energy, being certain this year wouldn’t be as bad.

He made sure not to say that out loud, but something in him knew he already jinxed it. Potter luck worked like that.

***

The funny thing about Horcruxes was that they weren’t dead or alive.

They existed in a strange space between life and death – not alive in the way their main parts were, but latching themselves into the plane of the living like leeches on blood.

The Horcrux currently residing in the Slytherin’s locket was no different. It wasn’t dead, but it balanced on the slim line between the two planes – it took strength for him to stay alive, Death’s ice-cold fingers hoping to bring him down – but he couldn’t cross into the afterlife without being destroyed by an outside force.

Such as he couldn’t fully step into the living realm without sacrificing someone else, sucking their life force away from them and then taking their place in the order of life.

Tom knew he could use Harry Potter as his way to a new body. He knew the boy had let him close enough – allowed him into his thoughts, his _dreams_.

Sucking the life force out of him would be easy, so, _so_ easy.

And yet Tom didn’t want to.

He had wanted a body for so long, but now that he had a chance, now that his _freedom_ from that _damn locket_ was nearing so, _so close – _he didn’t want to go through it.

He didn’t wish to do that to Harry.

And not only because they were Soulmates.

Soulmates have always been a strange concept for him – when he’d seen his Mark he had laughed.

He had seen countless witches and wizards do countless stupid things for each other just because a few words on their skin told them to.

There had been times when Tom Marvolo Riddle wished for a Soulmate. There had been times when he’s been jealous of the happy couples around him. There had been times when he cried himself to sleep, cursing the words on his hands for not being able to find the other person, that one single human being who could love him despite everything.

But those times had ended before Tom even graduated from Hogwarts. He had realized Soulmates didn’t matter, not in the long run and when Tom found himself in the locket and realized his Mark was gone, it lifted his mood up.

It felt like the only good thing in his new existence.

So, no, Tom didn’t care much if Harry _was_ his Soulmate or not. But… he cared. He cared about Harry, as strange as the thought of caring about anybody, would seem to his younger self.

He hadn’t lied to the Gryffindor, not once. He genuinely enjoyed his company, enjoyed talking to him, _liked_ him.

He had left the conjured up dream with a feeling of content he’s never felt before.

Harry Potter was intriguing, interesting, irreplaceable, irresistible and ingenious.

Harry Potter was the first person he’s ever gotten close to.

Harry Potter was a Horcrux.

It was the last fact that made Tom sure he would protect him with all he had. The boy had no idea and something told Tom his main part didn’t know either.

He had felt their connection even before Harry touched the locket – there was another piece of his soul in his scar. And yet… it was as if something was missing from it.

It wasn’t full. The piece was so small and weak that it almost wasn’t in there. It didn’t respond to Tom in any way, not like the other Horcruxes would.

Because it wasn’t a real Horcrux. It wasn’t fulfilled. It was a silver of his soul, yes, and it provided Harry with his connection to his main part. But the rituals that would connect the soul piece permanently and give it its own conscience weren’t there.

Tom had worried that the Horcrux might present a danger to Harry. As he had said – it was the nature of every soul piece to want its own body. It wouldn’t be surprising for the Horcrux in Harry to start possessing him.

But if Tom was right about it, that wasn’t and wouldn’t be the case. This Horcrux was dormant. It only served its purpose – a failsafe, just like every other Horcrux should be. It did nothing because it couldn’t do anything. It didn’t even have a conscience, or thoughts of its own.

It was like an unanimated object that just so happened to be in Harry’s mind.

It wouldn’t hurt Harry.

He was certain about it. And in the end, he found that to matter the most.

Tom had never cared much for Soulmates. But he cared for _his_ Soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note for the ages, it is true that Tom's been born in 1926 which means he'll turn 69 in 1995, but his Birthday is on New Year's Eve, so he's still 68.  
Also, I sort of changed the time when Tom made the locket - HP Wiki says it's somewhere between 1955 and 1961, but I made it happen in 1950 because why not.  
Bye, lovelies!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, so strap-up folks!
> 
> I do have to admit, I did wonder if I should post something this long, especially since most of it is Voldemort explaining things. BUT, then I thought, you know what? I'm a nerd into magic, you're also nerds into magic, so why not :D
> 
> I came up with the magic system and types myself, so if you have any question, don't be afraid to ask! It can get a bit confusing. I was just super excited about thinking up my own magic types, so there you go! :D
> 
> I also don't think Snape will have a super positive role in this. Yikes.
> 
> BUT, don't worry, Draco will have some redemption... you'll just have to wait and see :D
> 
> Thank you guys for your support, comments and kudos I ADORE you <3
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes,
> 
> Sti

As it turned out, Harry wouldn’t have DADA until Thursday.

Great. Fucking amazing.

Instead, he ended up with double Potions as the first thing on Monday.

Because why not, right? Why, the actual fuck, not?

He had barely thought about Snape or Malfoy since he got his Mark and it seemed he forgot to calculate them into his predictions for this year.

Because Malfoy was still a prat, no matter which side of the war Harry decided to be. He realized that as soon as he arrived at the Potion’s classroom.

The doors were still locked but a bunch of Gryffindors – and Slytherins, urgh – were already waiting in front of them.

Harry and Neville leaned against a near wall, content to just chat and completely ignore Malfoy and his group of idiots. The Gryffindors were giving him odd looks – probably due to the scene the day before, great job there, Harry – but he ignored those as well.

He just wanted to go through one damn year without attracting attention. Was that too much to ask?

It apparently was, since Draco Malfoy decided to use that exact moment to swagger towards them, Crabbe and Goyle right behind his back.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. Some happy part of him realized that in the background, Zabini was rolling his eyes as well.

“Potter,” the Malfoy heir sneered, “why, how lovely seeing you again.”

Harry sighed. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

The blonde ignored him and threw Neville a look full of disdain. “Why, I see you’ve switched your friends… sadly not for the better sort…”

Harry gritted his teeth. “Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Why, Potter,” he laughed, “I’m just stating the facts. Haven’t you heard? Longbottom here is _Mark-less._”

Everyone turned towards them. Neville stared at Malfoy with eyes full of hatred but stayed silent. Harry got angry. Really angry.

“Yeah? So what? That doesn’t make him worse.”

Another laugh. “Oh, please, stop lying to him, Potty. It’s clear as a day, I mean, who _would_ even want _Schlongbottom, _anyway?”

The Slytherins laughed.

Harry started to reach for his wand but was stopped by Neville’s hand curling around his wrist. He forced his anger down.

Malfoy wanted to get him angry. He needed to stay calm.

Harry looked at the blond and glowered. “Probably more people than would want _you_.”

The Slytherin growled. “Oh, really? Defend him all you want Potter, the absence of his Mark says enough. He’s worthless, just like we knew all along!”

The hand on Harry’s wrist tightened.

“He’s not worth any less than I am.”

Malfoy’s eyes went wide. “Wha-”

“I’m Mark-less, just like Neville.”

A wave of gasps went through the corridor. Harry stood still and proud. He knew what he just did.

By lunch, the whole school would know what he’s just said. Harry Potter, Mark-less?

He wouldn’t be surprised to find an article about it in the Daily Prophet tomorrow.

But he had thought about it. He had thought about what he’d present the world with, for a long time. And this was the most beneficial solution he could find. No one would want to see his Mark, no one would speculate what it was and no one would try to date him.

And no one would think he _had_ a Soulmate.

Problem solved.

Neville’s eyes had gone wide in both awe and panic. Malfoy was staring at him in pale shock.

“Y-you’re _Mark-less? _But you’re Harry Potter!” he spluttered.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “So?”

Malfoy gaped.

He knew that once the shock came off, that blond prick might use this against him. But so what? Harry would rather deal with Malfoy saying stupid shit than having the entire wizarding world breathing down his neck about having the Dark Lord for a Soulmate.

In the grand scheme of things, people like Malfoy barely mattered.

The locket had stayed silent so far but it was heating up in silent support. Harry was getting better and better at reading Tom’s signs.

Malfoy took a step back. “You don’t have a Soulmate?”

He was looking at Harry as if he’d grown two heads. Harry opened his mouth to reply when the door to the Potion classroom flew open. For the first time in Harry’s entire life, he was glad for Snape’s arrival.

The Potion Master shot them a disdainful look and wordlessly ushered them in. Hermione and Ron were going to come later due to their Prefect duties, so Harry paired up with Neville.

He’s already expected Ron and Hermione to want to work together anyways, so…

Although, thinking about that, Harry wasn’t entirely sure how well that would work out. Ron and Hermione had been nothing but sweet to each other, but Harry knew them well enough to know those two could get into a _ton_ of fights.

He and Neville sat down at one of the empty tables near the back. Neville threw him an apologetic look as if he thought working with him on Potions would be a burden.

Well… alright, Neville’s history in this class wasn’t the best. Still, Harry was sure that if Snape just stopped breathing down the other boy’s back the whole time and let them work in peace instead of shouting at Neville for every little thing, maybe – you know, just _maybe_ – Neville wouldn’t mess up so badly all the time.

Sadly, they still lived in a world where Snape was their Potions Professor so Harry could only dream.

Snape waved his wand and seconds later the instruction for their first potion appeared on the board.

“As you all know; this year you are taking your OWL exams. The potions I am going to go over with you are those that might appear in your exams. So I do hope _all_ of you,” his eyes circled on Harry and Neville, “pay close attention this year.”

Malfoy started to snicker. Snape ignored him – unsurprisingly – and continued.

“Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at OWLs: The Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned, however – if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The instructions are on the board; you have 2 hours.”

With that, he went to sit down at his desk while the students stood up and headed towards the ingredient cabinet.

Harry sighed. _Another year of Potions… amazing._

He looked at Neville. “You want to go get the ingredients, or…?”

“Oh, maybe it’d be better if you go? I really don’t want to mess things up again.”

Harry nodded and stood up. A few moments later, he came back with an armful of ingredients. He and Neville started on their Potion, Harry making sure to read the instructions thrice.

He agreed with Neville – he really didn’t need to get shouted at by Snape on their _first_ hour. But then again, he always tried his best at Potions.

Snape was just… Snape.

They started on their potions, Tom occasionally providing very random advice. Most of it turned useful, though, so Harry couldn’t complain.

Thinking about Tom always filled him with warmth. Tom… _his_ Tom was truly the best thing that ever happened to him. He was really glad he had him.

He used his advice and making their Draught went smoother and smoother. Something has passed between Harry and Neville, a silent determination for things to be different this year.

They started preparing the ingredients – powdering the moonstone and measuring out the syrup of hellebore – when Hermione and Ron entered the classroom.

Snape shot them a look. “You’re late.”

“Um, sir, we had Prefect duties,” Hermione said.

Snape sneered. “Oh, well. 5 points from Gryffindor each for failing to inform me about those.”

“But, sir –” she started.

“Get to work before I take more points.”

Harry watched the Potion Master walk away and felt his nostrils flare in anger.

Hermione and Ron stood there for a frozen moment, before they sat down, looking very bewildered. Harry shot them an apologetic look.

This wasn’t fair in the slightest.

It didn’t even make sense.

But Snape was Snape, so Harry probably shouldn’t have expected anything else.

He shared a look with Neville, before focusing back on their Draught.

He really didn’t like Potions.

***

The week trudged on so slowly, Harry felt like jumping out of his skin.

By breakfast on Tuesday, everyone knew he was Mark-less. By Wednesday, so did the Daily Prophet.

Neville and Luna had cornered him before Herbology that day and he had to explain he hoped for this outcome. It was better than revealing the truth.

They conceded on that, both wishing him luck with dealing with this and Neville jokingly stating they were in hell together.

He liked Neville.

Tom had once again asked him if he shouldn’t have let the hat put him in Slytherin.

And so the week went on and on and he wasn’t getting any closer to seeing Voldemort. The worst thing was that he couldn’t even show his agitation to anyone besides Tom. Luna and Neville were sweet but he doubted they’d be overjoyed to hear his Soulmate was teaching them DADA.

He did question Luna on how her DADA went and she said Professor Cartrein was the ‘best teacher she ever had, very open-minded, you’ll like him’.

He spent almost every night with Tom in his dreamland. He could complain to Tom. That was nice.

The kisses were an added benefit too.

But finally, _finally,_ after _days_ of waiting and only seeing glimpses of Voldemort in the hallways, his first Defence Against the Dark Arts arrived.

He stood with Neville, Hermione and Ron as they waited for their new ‘Professor’ to arrive.

Harry couldn’t stand still.

_Calm down, darling,_ Tom said soothingly, _he’ll come soon. And then you’ll just watch him teach. He won’t try anything in the class, you know that._

_I know, I know, I know, _he half-whined, ready to start pacing.

_And then after, you’ll get the chance to talk to him. It’d be fine,_

_Yeah, well, the talking part is what makes me nervous, Tom, so…_

A sigh came from the locket.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, hoping no one would think anything weird of it. _What if he wants you back?_

Tom’s reply came fast. _Then I’ll talk to him and make sure he gives me back._

_But Tom… you’re technically _his_ not _mine. _He has all the right to take you._

Tom showed him an image of them hugging. _I won’t let us part, alright?_

Harry clutched the locket as tight as he could. _Alright._

“Harry?” Ron touched his arm.

The teen flinched in shock. “Wh-what?”

His friends chuckled. “Sorry, you just seemed to zone out for a while. Everything’s fine, mate?”

Harry looked at them, smiling at him like three happy moons. He hated lying, he truly did.

“Oh, you know,” he joked, “just wondering if this teacher will try to kill me… again.”

They laughed.

Harry did have some certainty this year might turn out better… but truly, he _was_ Harry Potter. Something was going to go down during this year, whether he liked it or not.

It was in that moment that the door to the classroom opened and Anion Cartrein appeared.

He shot the students a charming smile – a nicer and much better one than Lockhart’s if anyone asked Harry – and inclined his head to the classroom.

“Come in,”

The Gryffindors and Slytherins – sigh – walked in and took their seats.

Harry passed a giggling Lavender and Parvati on his way and couldn’t help but sigh. Yeah, okay, he got it, Voldemort was good looking, so what?

Maybe he was a bit jealous. Maybe. A tiny bit.

Argh.

He sat down as far back as he could, right next to Neville and behind Ron and Hermione. Last year, he might feel a bit sad to see their seating arrangement changing, but now he found he didn’t mind. He liked sitting with Neville.

The class settled down, all eyes pinpointed on their new Professor.

Voldemort – or should he call him ‘Professor Cartrein’? – turned to the classroom and smiled once more.

“As you may already know, my name is Anion Cartrein,” a piece of chalk flew up and wrote his name on the board, “and I will be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. I did say this year, because, while I’d gladly teach you for more than just 10 months, I am aware of what happens to DADA teacher in this school.”

A chuckle went through the classroom.

“Now, I’m not one to believe this position is truly cursed. But there hasn’t been a single Defence teacher to last more than a year for over 40 years. I do fully expect we won’t see each other after the summer ends. Which is why I tweaked the curriculum a bit to make the most of it.”

_I like him,_ Tom commented out of nowhere.

“Now this year you’re taking your O.W.L.s and I’ll prepare you for them, but I also want to make sure I can teach you something, that will be useful for your future.”

His eyes glinted red. They met Harry’s over the classroom and Harry swore the man _smirked._

Hermione put her hand up. “Sir?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?”

“What exactly are you planning on teaching us?”

“Quite a lot, in fact,” he answered, “but for now, I think we should go down to the basics.”

_The basics?_ Harry blinked, _What?_

“Not in the spells or jinxes, don’t worry,” Cartrein quickly stated as confusion ran through the class, “but I think it’s important to understand why I’ll teach you the things I’ll teach you before we can move on. I don’t believe you can truly learn unless you understand _why_ you’re learning.”

… Huh.

That was… surprisingly interesting.

_Okay,_ he said to Tom, _I think I like him too._

His boyfriend said nothing but Harry could feel he was happy.

The chalk moved again, this time writing a swirly **Defence Against the Dark Arts.**

“Now,” the man patted the board, “can someone tell me why our class is named like this?”

The class stared at him in shock.

This was not the type of question any of them were expecting.

Hermione’s hand went up again, this time hesitant.

“Miss Granger?”

“Um…” she gulped, “because we’re learning to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts?”

Malfoy started to snicker. Cartrein shot him one chilling look and the blond stopped.

_Good,_ Harry thought.

Cartrein answered with another question. “Alright. What are the Dark Arts? Mr Malfoy?”

The blond gaped for a bit, looking confused and slightly scared. “Um, I mean… Dark Magic?”

“What is Dark Magic, then?”

Malfoy had no answer to that. Neither did the rest of the class.

Harry could see where this was going. It was certainly interesting.

“Well?” their new teacher said after a moment of silence, “No one?”

Lavender shyly raised her hand. “Well, Dark Magic is… bad magic?”

His lips went up for a fleeting second. “Is it?”

The class went silent. Tom started to laugh.

_I like him. I like him a lot._

Harry let out a soft sigh. Not surprising.

“Mr. Potter, what do _you_ think Dark Magic is?” Voldemort suddenly called him out.

Harry froze. Oh, that bastard did that on purpose, didn’t he?

All eyes turned to him and Harry braced himself.

“Well… as far as I know, Dark Magic is just a different type of magic, like Light Magic or other types. But I’m afraid that since none of our previous teachers ever spoke about this with us, I don’t have the right answer.”

_That’s a good answer, sweetheart, _Tom said happily, _you did well._

The man seemed amused. “Mr Potter is in fact right. There are several types of Magic, all different from each other in various ways.”

He flicked his hand and a moment later a list of words appeared on the board:

**White Magic**

**Light Magic**

**Grey Magic**

**Dark Magic**

**Black Magic**

“From your expressions, I can gauge this is the first time you see these terms. But while the wizarding community often likes to reduce magic to only Dark and Light, the other types do exist; and it is important you know them.

“I will explain what each type of magic means, but before I do, you need to understand one important thing,” he paused, his eyes skimming over the classroom, “no type of magic is inherently _bad_ or _good._ And I swear to you that there is not a single spell or charm that you couldn’t use for both good and evil.”

The students watched him with wide eyes. Harry has never seen his classmates paying that much attention. It was no wonder, though.

He found himself listening to Cartrein’s voice with bated breath, hungry for hearing more.

“Magic is a tool. It’s a surge of power right within you. It can’t be bad or good. All that matters are the intentions and the way we use it. Every spell, Light or Dark can be used to harm and to help.”

Hermione’s hand went up again. “But sir, what about the Unforgivables? You can’t use those for good.”

That amused expression was back even if not for long. “An excellent question, Miss Granger. 5 points to Gryffindor. _Now,_ you might be asking yourself the same question, how could you use spells that are so horrible they’re forbidden by _law_ to a good cause? Trust me when I say this, I am in no way indicating these spells are great or that you should use them –”

_Yeah, right, _Harry scoffed.

Tom snickered again, _I’m so glad he finally got the position, this is amazing._

“– but did you know there are instances where using the _Imperius _curse is legally allowed?”

The students gaped. The Dark Lord in hiding loosely crossed his arms across his chest and no, Harry was not looking at the way it made his shirt pull tight around his arms or how muscular they seemed, Harry was _definitely not looking at that, **absolutely not – **_

“In St Mungo’s Hospital, nurses are allowed to use the _Imperius_ to either stop a patient from hurting themselves or others or if they feel the usage to be absolutely necessary. Mind control is a tricky thing and rightfully so illegal but it can be helpful. If a patient refuses to eat; if the nurses need to stop the patient from hurting themselves… it is highly observed by the Ministry as far as I know, but it can be useful.”

Harry had to say he was impressed. He’s never thought of it like this.

Cartrein continued. “It’s the same with Light Magic. Think about _Wingardium Leviosa _for example. It’s one of the first charms you learn in this school. Most of you are eleven when you learn it. It seems harmless, right? But have you ever thought on using this charm on another person? Flying them high up in the sky… and letting them drop?”

_I’d say they’d be dead, _Tom noted.

Harry looked around the classroom. All of them look floored, even the Slytherins.

“Bravo,” their teacher spread his hands, “you just killed someone with the Lightest charm on Earth. See? Magic is just a tool. A very useful and powerful one, but it doesn’t have a mind on its own. Think about this knife,” a blade suddenly appeared in his hand, “would you say this knife is evil?”

A couple of people shook their heads.

“Exactly. It’s just an object. I could use it in cooking, making potions, sculpting from wood if I was _really_ bored,” a round of chuckles, “or I could kill someone with it. But in the end, it is truly just an object. If you’re creative enough, you could use a _chair_ to kill someone.”

Harry imagine himself bashing Voldemort over the head with his chair and had to use all of his willpower to stop himself from laughing.

“It is important you remember this. Once you cast a spell, what matters are your intentions, not the type of Magic you used.”

He stayed silent for a bit letting the class soak it up. Harry could see Hermione’s scrunched up expression and could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He was sure she was trying to find something that would disprove Cartrein’s theory – but wasn’t finding any.

Harry himself couldn’t think of anything either. The Killing Curse came to his mind and while he felt uneasy admitting it, he could see the benefits in it as well.

It wasn’t great, but he knew a lot of times it was better to put animals out of their misery. And as far as he knew, the Killing Curse was so quick it didn’t even hurt. Thinking about it, it was probably the most humane way to take someone’s life.

Huh.

_Tom,_ he asked, _why do I have the feeling he’s trying to turn us into Death Eaters?_

His boyfriend laughed. _Aww, Harry, I hate to break it to you, but your feeling is probably right._

_Why am I not surprised?_

_Oh, shush, you. He’s not manipulating any of your classmates. If anything, I’m surprised by how forward he’s actually being. Magic is just Magic._

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, I should explain the types to you,” Cartrein spoke again, “I think we should start with the most prominent types – Light and Dark. What is the actual difference if we already know it’s not their morality? Well, surprisingly enough, the only difference is in the way this magic is used.

“I dislike the way the wizarding community likes to split all magic into two groups and completely forgo every other type. But their differentiation on Light and Dark isn’t technically wrong.”

He waved his hand and Harry watched as a dashed line appeared on the board, going through the **Grey Magic** part and splitting the types onto two halves.

“Light Magic is what you’ve been learning here at Hogwarts. It’s straightforward and fairly easy to control. You think of what you want to do, use your wand and your magic does it for you. Light spells depend on your determination and will. You command your magic and your magic obeys. Understand that?”

Some people nodded.

“Good. Because Dark Magic is very different. Dark spells depend on your _emotion._ With Light spells, you have the power over your magic and it does what you want because you forced it to. Dark spells take your emotion and mix them with your magic so that in the end, your magic does what you want not because you told it to, but because it becomes one with you.”

“But what’s the difference, sir?” Theodore Nott asked, “Don’t we already wish for the magic to do whatever we want when doing Light spells?”

“A good question. Hmm, let me demonstrate,” he waved his hand and a tiny flame appeared on top of his palm, “think of two spells – _Incendio_ and _Fiendfyre_. Both of them create fire but one is Light and one Dark.”

They watched the flames happily dance on top of his hand.

“This is _Incendio_. I thought of creating it, I willed my magic to do so and it did. It’s there. I can snuff it out with another spell or water. But from this point forward it’s not connected to my magic. If I get angry, the flame won’t get higher. It’ll stay the way it is no matter what.”

He closed his fist and the flame died. “Now, with _Fiendfyre, _I’m not going to demonstrate, _but_, I think you all know what it looks like.”

Theo nodded. “My cousin created a flaming dragon on our yard. He almost burned our house down.”

“Exactly. Because _Fiendfyre _is a Dark spell and unlike _Incendio_, it is _still connected to you_ after casting it. You control it with your emotions. You get angry – the flames go higher. You stop paying attention to it – it can get out of hand. The magic that is actively sustaining the fire is connected to your emotions. Which is why _Fiendfyre _and other Dark spells are usually _very_ hard to manage. You need steel control over your emotion for it to not end in a disaster.”

A shocked rambling went through the room. Harry could see Neville nodding, looking pale but thoughtful. Malfoy for once wasn’t sneering either.

“I still don’t understand how it can link our emotions and magic together,” Hermione said, looking rather confused.

The Professor tapped his fingers on the table. “Your magic is already a part of you. It’s always been. Think about Accidental Magic. You might say that only happens to small children – but that is because small wizarding children haven’t used a wand yet. They haven’t conditioned themselves to think about magic as a separate entity to use to their benefit, they simply wish and feel and their magic responds.”

Harry thought about it for a split second. Then he raised his hand for the first time in the class.

“Yes, Mr Potter?”

“Are you trying to say using our wands is a bad thing?”

The amusement was back. Cartrein’s red eyes found their way to his and Harry’s scar startled to prickle. Just a bit, not in pain. Just… tingling.

He blinked and the feeling was gone. The man answered.

“Not really, although I know it might have sounded like that. Wandless magic is extremely hard and while it allows your magic to flow stronger and makes you more powerful, it would be idiotic to shame someone for not being able to do it.”

Some people laughed.

“What I wanted to say is that if we want to go forward with our magic, get better or stronger we need to realize that our wands, while useful, serve as crutches. They help us drawn our magic out, they do the job for us in finding it. They serve as a bridge between our magic and our wishes.

“Without them, that bridge is gone and we need to find our magic for ourselves. It’s for that reason that people who have already dabbed into the Dark Arts find wandless magic easier. Dark Magic teaches you to be more aware of your magic, to connect with it and then channel it. In wandless magic, you’re essentially doing the same thing – but as I’ve said, charming without a wand is hard for everyone.”

That made sense. Harry had been sceptical from the moment the man started to talk. But the more he listened the more he realized it was true.

Whenever he used his wand, he felt that pull in the pit of his stomach, just a second before his spells came out. He thought that was just what you did with magic.

But maybe that was the wand at hand, helping him use his magic, like – well, like a crutch.

And… and it would explain his problems with Occlumency. He’s never actively _searched_ for his magic and he couldn’t use his wand to do it for him in his meditation.

Did that mean Occlumency was Dark Magic?

He asked Tom. The locket sighed. _Yes, Harry, I thought you knew that. All Mind Magic is._

Yep, he was just stupid.

“Do all of you understand the difference between Light and Dark Magic?”

Some students nodded again.

The man looked down at his watch. “Alright, let me introduce you to the other types before the class is over.”

He turned to the board again. “I think you all understand what Light Magic is. It is 90% of what you learn here at Hogwarts and there are only a couple of Light spells that are illegal. We’ve also talked about Dark Magic, although it has sub-branches. Elemental Magic, Mind Magic and Soul Magic all belong under the Dark Arts.”

And… there was the answer. Mind Magic. Occlumency.

Sigh.

_I’ve told you so,_ Tom said helpfully.

“Grey Magic is quite interesting. It’s a mix between Light and Dark and users are capable of using both styles. Grey Magic encompasses all other types and the magic is very fluid. We all have affinities to certain types of magic and Grey users tend to be able to do all types pretty easily. Lucky bastards.”

Another round of chuckles.

Harry saw Daphne Greengrass preening and remembered what Barty had said: _The Greengrass family has always been neutral and while they are Grey in magic, they never joined us in the first war._

“White and Black Magic is where it gets a bit funky. There aren’t many spells that would be purely White or Black, but the simplified explanation is that White Magic has everything to do with life and Black Magic has everything to do with death. Necromancy hugely falls under Black Magic.”

Lavender frowned. “But sir, shouldn’t Necromancy fall under White Magic? You give things life, right?”

_Yeah, dead things,_ Tom muttered.

Cartrein laughed. “It is confusing. More so that, well…” he sighed and turned to the board. With a single wave, the words rearranged themselves, White and Black Magic coming next to each other and creating a circle.

“Not one spell is 100% one magic type but White and Black Magic tend to mix quite often, at least in the subjects they focus on. Life and Death might sound like antonyms, but they're usually connected. However, since Necromancy deals with deceased bodies and doesn’t truly bring _anything_ back to life, we classify it as Black. Blood Magic is often classified as White.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. Some students spluttered in shock.

The man put his hands up in a calming gesture. “I know, I know, Blood Magic is _highly_ illegal. So is Necromancy, really. You’re asking yourself, why should _Blood_ Magic be classified as something that brings life? Except… why shouldn’t it? Blood is our life force. It creates life, it’s one of the key things in our bodies. It binds us together, it can create strong protections and it gives life.”

Ah. Well, that was logical. He did wonder _why_ it was illegal, especially since it seemed helpful. But… well, Harry could see why rituals requiring you to use someone _else’s_ blood might be a bit… not good.

“As I said, it is illegal,” Cartrein continued, “In fact, if I were a Ministry official, I’d probably just tell you that _this_,” he tapped the **Light Magic**, “is the only thing you should be concerning yourselves with and that the rest is illegal.”

Another round of giggles.

“Any questions?”

There was a silent moment before Blaise Zabini put his hand up. “Um… so, does Black and White Magic also fall under Light and Dark or are they completely different?”

The man nodded. “Yes. I should have specified that sooner – White and Light magic are different but they do _technically_ fall under the same category. You use both through control and willpower. Black and Dark Magic are both used through your emotions. And Grey Magic is sort of between them, so you could say there are only 3 types of magic, hypothetically.”

Zabini made an affirmative sound. The rest stayed silent.

Cartrein nodded.

“Alright then. I do hope I haven’t bored you to death with all the talking – and since I’m amazing, you don’t have any homework. Class dismissed.”

The students started packing, lively chatter erupting between them as they poured out of the classroom.

Harry stood up to pack when Cartrein spoke again.

“Mr Potter, stay behind please.”

Some of his classmates shot him dirty look – Slytherin and Gryffindor alike. Harry forced himself to ignore them and instead placated his friends as best as he could. They looked slightly worried but soon they left and Harry’s panic started growing.

He was planning on talking to him anyway. Why the hell was he so nervous?

_It’d be fine,_ Tom tried to reassure him.

It didn’t really work.

He watched the last students walk out and clenched his fists in trepidation.

Alright. Alright.

The door snapped shut - they were alone.

Those red eyes glinted with amusement once more. Harry wondered if they were laughing at _him_.

“Potter,” the man drawled, his lips quirking up.

Harry braced his shoulders. “Voldemort.”

The man smiled. Harry gulped. “What do you want?”

Voldemort regarded him for a moment so long and uncomfortable that Harry started to feel like a beetle under a microscope.

Then the man’s mouth twisted into a wide smile that made Harry’s heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think I'm looking for a Beta Reader!
> 
> I know, I know, finally :D
> 
> But really, if any of you would like to, please hit me up in the comments! I'd appreciate your help a LOT :D
> 
> Please be aware that I would want two things from a Beta. 1) I'd probably ask you to go through the previous 15 chaps and edit them - yep, it is a lot, I know - and 2) once I wrote the next chapter, I would always send it to you, so you can go through it and then send it back to me for me to post. It would be great if you'd be capable of doing so as quickly as possible - the next day for example - because once I send it to you, the date when I update another chapter relies solely on you as a Beta and I hate making the readers wait longer than they have to.
> 
> So um...
> 
> if like, any of you would like to be my Beta even with what I wrote up, I'd be really really happy! <3 <3
> 
> Hit me up in the comments and we can chat lol <3
> 
> Love you all!!!


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